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This is a question Desperate Times

Stranded in a hotel in an African war zone with no internet access for two weeks, I was forced to resort to desperate measures. Possessing only my passport and the clothes I stood up in; and the warning "You can catch it shaking hands with a vicar out there" ringing in my ears, I had to draw my own porn in order to preserve my sanity.

Alas, it all came out looking like Coronation Street's Audrey Roberts, but, as they say, any port in a storm.

What have you done in times of great desperation?

(, Thu 15 Nov 2007, 10:10)
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Travelling light
I was scheduled to go on a two day business trip to Luxembourg straight from work and, wanting to travel light, figured that I could wear the very same dress two days running and simply travel with my toothbrush. I was meeting different people each day and if I was very very careful, I would get away with just the one outfit. Needless to say, I was just about to leave for London City Airport when my lunch (a cold salmon fillet) landed in my lap leaving a fatty, fish shaped imprint on my dress. Having no time to spare I pulled from the bottom of my wardrobe a long-forgotten shift dress, unworn since I had stopped going to the gym, shoved it in my handbag and sped off, smelling increasingly of salmon.

Once at the airport, I ran to the ladies, stripped the fishy item off and forced the shift dress on, my intention being to scrub off the stain in the wash basin using the toothbrush and dry the dress thoroughly with the hand drier. Even though the shift dress barely made it past my hips, due to my increased hip size, and I looked like a cheap whore, I figured that in the privacy of the ladies, I could scrub away and get the good dress clean and dry again before my flight was called.

How wrong I was. The stain proved stubbornly resistant to both elbow grease and the toxic soap that London City provided and, with 5 minutes to go before my flight closed, I hauled the sorry, fishy, dripping garment across to the hand drier. Sadly, the machine had all the force of an effete heavy breather and, as I personally was called to board, I had the stark choice of boarding the flight wearing a sopping wet dress or simply accept that I would have to fly dressed as a common prostitute. It was a desperate choice but I went down the hooker route, and stuffed the dripping dress into my bag, chucked the toothbrush away and headed out of the door. I snagged my tights (my only pair) on the way down to the gate and boarded the plane, smelling of fish, my dress 14 inches above my knees, ladders in my tights, and my handbag dripping mysteriously. Hats off to the professionalism of the Luxair staff who (hardly) batted an eyelid.
(, Wed 21 Nov 2007, 0:31, 4 replies)
The pain...
Am feeling it for you. I once went out for dinner the night before an interview and didn't realise the dinner would be smart dress so wore the white linen interview trousers I'd packed for the next day. The prawns arrive for starters and, like the fat handed twat I am I upended them in their garlicky butter all over my dry clean only lower half.

I spent the next morning running round the shops like a loon trying to find a sutiable replacement. I failed miserably (I'm knocking on 6 foot and struggle to get trousers long enough, let alone tailored ones to wear with heels) so i decked myself in acessories and a nice shirt and put on skinny jeans and a blazer and brazened it out. As I left the interview, the head of the panel whispered "you look very glamorous..."

I got the job. But I felt a bit dirty for it.

The trousers incidently came up a treat after 5 cycles through an industrial cleaners....

(, Wed 21 Nov 2007, 3:59, closed)
Most probs thought you were a Mile High Working Girl
Good story :)
(, Wed 21 Nov 2007, 8:26, closed)
How did your meetings go?
(, Wed 21 Nov 2007, 8:36, closed)
Let that be a lesson!
Never travel light again. Good God women! what were you thinking.
(, Wed 21 Nov 2007, 8:40, closed)

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