Everyone should have their movie moment.  For the romantics, that might be meeting for the first time on top of the Empire States Building on Valentine’s Day.  For the action lovers, it might mean tripping a mugger as he runs off with stolen merchandise, thus saving the day.

Tripping that purse snatcher and saving the day.

For me, it was a comedy…of errors.

The scene: a casual, dimly lit restaurant in Chicago.  For ambiance, each table was illuminated by one to two tea light candles (REAL candles, FYI, not those b.s. battery powered things they try to pass as candles these days).  The only other light emanated from sparsely placed wall sconces around the restaurant and a small track light over the bar area just inside the entrance.

The time: Winter, circa 2009.  Temperatures hovered around 10 degrees Fahrenheit at 7:30 p.m.

The players: me (charming, elegant, and graceful in dark jeans and a figure hugging sweater); my husband (funny, tall, British man donning medium-dye jeans and a button-down Euro-style, long-sleeve shirt); our friend Shteve* ( bird-loving British bloke with a fabulous sense of humor wearing thick, dark denim jeans and a wooly sweater) *Shteve’s name has been changed to protect his privacy, and a waiter (not much to really say here…)

The players (minus the Waiter): Me, the hubs, and *Shteve

Action:  We arrived at the restaurant and were seated at a table along the back wall.  Shteve sat on a bench adjacent to the wall directly opposite me.  My husband sat to Shteve’s right.  The waiter passed us our menus for perusal. As we discussed ordering the charcuterie plate to share as an appetizer, I leaned in towards the center of the table to better read the menu.

Reading the menu.

I sat in this position for at least a minute while contemplating which pig products to include on our charcuterie when an unfamiliar and unpleasant odor permeated the air.  It smelled like something was burning, and I desperately hoped it was nothing in the kitchen.

As I looked around, inquiringly, I noticed that the restaurant lighting changed.  The restaurant suddenly seemed filled with glowing light bouncing off the walls that did not exist prior to my menu review.  Suddenly, I realized (or perhaps it was brought to my attention by my shrieking husband or petrified friend, Shteve…I really can’t *ahem* recall), I realized that my menu was on fire.  Apparently, when I leaned in to better read my menu, the corner of the menu caught the flame from the tea light.

Not to worry!  I observed we each had a glass of ice-water at the table.  I quickly resolved to handle the situation.  As I reached for my glass to douse the flames, I accidentally knocked it over.

So yeah … this happened.

Rather than have the effect I sought (putting out the rapidly growing flames), water spilled all over Shteve’s lap (did I mention it was ice water and he was wearing denim?).  At that point, Waiter saves the day by whisking the menu off to the kitchen to be properly extinguished.

While probably not the case for Shteve since he had to wait for the bus outside in 10 degree temperatures with a water-soaked crotch, I consider this a no-take-back. The action unfolded as slapstick and I had my movie moment.

Poor *Shteve