Philosophy, Justification & Irony

Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes ~ Oscar Wilde

This is the message on the little paper tag hanging over the side of my mug of tea today. It's Earl Grey tea, my latest favorite for the last 8 months or so. I love Oscar Wilde's writing, his mind worked in wonderful ways. I love tea, and I love thinking and drinking deeply at the same time.

This is a special mug of tea, however. There is a story regarding it's path to my mug. Fade to last night... a friend and I are sitting in a super fancy schmancy conference room near the top of a glitzy high rise hotel downtown at a 'fashion seminar' hosted by two ladies who write a column about fashion in the local paper. Both of these ladies review a list of fashion don'ts that pretty much encompass exactly what my friend and I are wearing. Of course.

My friend, Molly, is a near 6 foot blonde, and almost all legs carrying her enviable figure. She is fun, naughty, sexy and completely uninhibited. It is a favorite pastime of mine to watch other people watching her, women hate her on sight, and men are speechless. She is fabulous. She is what women should be. If it was the twenties, she would be a flapper. Oh wait...

Suffice it to say, she looks better than can be imagined, I don't look too bad either, and both of us are staring at these lady presenters wondering why they are showing us photos of Barbara Bush and Hilary Clinton and interrupting each other with warnings against wearing what we are wearing.

Molly looks at me and says, "This is supposed to be for us? My mother is too young to wear those styles!"

We've raided the dessert table and had coffee and tea already.

"Want to take off?" I ask.

"Yes, there's a bar at the top of another hotel down here that has a great view of the city, and I haven't been there yet. Let's go."

We take off and stop at the ladies room one floor up from the hotel lobby. While I am waiting for her, I see the door to the 'kitchen' is wide open. This is a catering kitchen used for conferences and meetings on this floor.
(STORY INTERRUPTION FOR EXPLANATION) I've developed a habit I'm not proud of, but a habit it is, nonetheless. I grab extra single packages of Earl Grey whenever I get the opportunity, and tuck them into my purse for those occasions when I want tea at a location where there is no Earl Grey. I come prepared.

While we were at the fashion thing, I kept eyeing the coffee/tea station with keen interest, thinking I could stock up the purse while I was there. At least a little. To my disappointment, there was a small gang of male wait staff and a male bartender that were hovering, hiding in that exact corner... watching the lecture with suspicion and uncertainty, and they weren't going to budge. I'd have had to make a blatant withdrawal of the tea packets in full view and that's just tacky.

So we are downstairs and I find myself waiting for Molly, and looking into this empty kitchen. It is the quintessential metaphor of entering the door of temptation, incarnate. I tentatively tiptoe in... look around, and then beeline to the huge boxes (2) of tea bags. YES! Having been denied the opportunity to filch upstairs, I capitalize on this chance... only to discover that there is one single solitary packet of Earl Grey tea. Not another one in sight. Well one is better than none, and I don't want any of the other flavors.

Molly comes waltzing in at this point. "What in the world are you doing?!"

"Stocking up, I couldn't get past the beverage patrol upstairs." I grumble.

"You can't do that! There are rules about this in the bible!" She is horrified. She is a full blown part-time Catholic, which means sinning is ok as long as you ask for forgiveness.

I smirk at her. "Molly, we just sat through that whole stupid fashion thing, and if I'd asked them for the tea, they'd have smiled and given it to me. It's one tea bag, this is a huge hotel, they aren't going to care." I feel quite justified. I can come up with more if I need to.

"Commandments!" she declares.

We walk down the stairs arguing the morality of this issue, and her shock at my pinch.

"I only ever take tea and pens, and the pens are by accident, usually." I point out defensively. "They have it there for people to take and enjoy!"

We round the corner, arguing still, and head toward the lobby, down a hall that is all glass windows on one side, except for two doors that are clearly labeled at eye level 'Emergency Exit, Alarm Will Sound if Opened'. She goes straight for them.

"Molly no! You can't go through..." she pushes the door open and a siren that is several decibels above deafening, screams this trespassing travesty to the world. I'm sure you heard it, wherever you are.

She walked right through it without flinching, and continued outside.

I walked down the hall and past the security guard who gave me a disgusted glare. I mumbled a quick apology and went out the front door. There's Molly, sauntering toward me with an unabashedly carefree and guilt free grin on her face. The (male) hotel staff that are huddled together about 15 feet away from her are grinning and waving.

"Don't you say another word about the tea." I said evenly.

She grinned, "It's so fabulous, all I have to do is smile." A tucked chin giggle, a flip of her hair and off she strolls down the street.


As I sit here, sipping my pinched tea, I contemplate Oscar's words... and I think to myself, what are mistakes, really... lessons? Things gone awry? Is it only a mistake to the one who got the shortest end of the deal? I like the term 'experience' better. It's all encompassing. It's accurate. It covers every perspective. It makes the guilt disappear immediately, and there's no confession involved.

Here's to a lifetime full of them... as I tip my mug, sip my tea, and savor the experience.


Scarlett (Viaggiatore was not there. He was off visiting Roary and the new twins).