Pandora's Box

I had never been to a live auction before, and I wasn't really interested until they called out, "And now we're auctioning off two plane tickets to anywhere in the continental United States. We'll start the bidding at $50."

What? Two plane tickets for $50???? That was a ridiculous steal. I raised my hand - little did I know what I was getting myself sucked into.

"I hear $50. Do I hear $60?"

A woman across the stage raised her hand.

"I hear $60. Do I hear $70?"

I raised my hand again, in a heartbeat.

"I hear $70. Do I hear $80?"

The man next to me raised his hand.

I raised my hand again, before the auctioneer even had time to ask for another offer.

We went back and forth with bids. The man, then me. The woman, then me.

"I hear $200. Do I hear $210?"

The woman stopped placing bids. But the man standing next to me continued to bid against me.

The pressure was on.

"I hear $300. Do I hear $310?"

MC and her girlfriend appeared behind me. "Hey, sk8rn, do you know what you're doing?"

Okay, I'd thrown back a few drinks by this time. But TWO plane tickets to anywhere in the continental United States for $300? That was still just $150 a piece. A steal.

"Alright, well, just don't go past $400," they suggested.

Of course, they say this in front of the guy who is bidding against me, which made me wild in the head.

"I hear $370. Do I hear $380?"

"400!" shouts the man next to me.

I can see C across the room, talking to a friend. She makes eye contact with me and gives me the cut throat signal to quit. But I'm wearing my drunken, mischievous, "I want this and I'm going to have it, goddamnit" smile.

I raise my hand, "$410."

I see C push through the crowd to make her way to me.

MC and her girlfriend have grabbed my arms to hold them down.

"Sssssshhhhhh," I tell them, struggling to be free.

"$420."

"$430."

"$440."

C has reached me and I can hear sounds coming from her mouth, but I am too lost in the climbing excitement to comprehend the words. I see that she's still smiling, however. Knowing that she is amused enough to tolerate the latest expression of my impulsivity, I persevere.

"$450."

"$460."

"That's a good fare for New Orleans," I hear a woman tell my competitor. She leans her breasts up against him, clearly expecting to be the recipient of that second plane ticket.

"$480," I trudge on.

"$490," the foot of air between us is so tense, I'm hoping no one lights a match for fear of an explosion.

I finally can't take the pressure anymore. I don't believe my ears as I hear the words escape my mouth.

I turn to my competitor. And the voice that escapes is a ear-traumatizing whine, "But I want to visit my parents."

I am horrified with the level I've stooped to, but it's too late. The words are out there.

"$500," I state loud and firm.

"I hear $500. Do I hear $510? $500. That's $500. Going, going, gone. Sold for $500."

I got the tickets.

But the real price was my pride.

Tail tucked between my legs, I slinked my way past my competitor, his arms crossing his chest. I headed back to the bar and bought myself another drink.

I still can't believe what scum I am.