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Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
© 2004
Visitors Don’t Speak

Stan tapped the long thin pointer on the chart then turned his head to address the first speaker. “Ben. This is Mars.” He traced over the circle on the flipchart with the pointer. He lowered his voice. “There is a rover on Mars right now named Survivor. You are in charge of a mission to Mars that will put a new rover up there. What is the name of your rover, and what is its mission?”

Ben nodded his head slowly. Answering questions off the cuff wasn’t easy, especially when there was a panel of judges critiquing the delivery. “That’s a very good question.” He said.

I was sitting in on another Toastmaster International Club Meeting, where members practice their public speaking skills. By insisting I was a visitor for the third week in a row, I could sit back and enjoy myself without worrying about doing my own presentation. I know. Visiting was a brilliant plan.

This week the club was having a Table Topic competition, which I was, um, conveniently watching from behind my ‘visitor’s pass.’ Cause. Visitors don’t speak. They observe. The contestants all left the room then were invited back one at a time to answer a question in one to two minutes.

Why come to the meetings if I wasn’t ready to talk? Oh. The sheer entertainment value. Really. This was far better than walking up and down the Sixteenth Street Mall in Denver waiting for adventure. After all I got to sit in a comfortable chair in an air conditioned room and laugh a lot. That beat wandering through the streets of Denver any day. Besides. The variety in the speeches was enough to keep anyone coming back for more.

“The name of my rover is Hope.” Ben said, addressing the judges. “This is a very important moment in space exploration. Hope’s job is to get up to Mars and search for human life. We want to know about hair styles, antennae length, eating habits, and how green their skin is.” When he finished, he gave one nod to the judges and moved to his seat.

We clapped for his best effort.

I caught his eye. “That was hard!”

He leaned towards me. “Are there really rovers on Mars?”

“Don’t know.”

Dom held his hand together to keep them from shaking when he walked in. Competitions made him nervous. He stood before Stan, who delivered the same Mars question in exactly the same manner. Dom bowed his head in conquest when he heard the question and released his hands. Space exploration was a hobby of his.

“Oh. Of course. He looked at the audience and met our gazes. “The name of this enterprise is Endeavor. Now. As you know Survivor has been up on Mars searching for proof that there was once water on the red planet. If we can prove there was water, then we may be able to prove there was once life present there.”

When finished he smiled at the audience. “Thank you for your time.”

We clapped. Man. He was good.

Charlie walked in next and shrugged at Stan. How quickly could he end this torture? His specialty was politics. As soon as the question was delivered, Charlie pressed his lips together and squinted his eyes. He needed to formulate something. Anything. His response wouldn’t have to stick to the topic. The only goal was to fill the time with something cohesive.

“That’s a good question.” He said, lowering his voice. “This expedition is named, Centipede and that’s what the new rover will be called.” He stopped for a moment of reflection. What had he gotten himself in to?

He smiled and took a step forward. “We are going to pack thousands and thousands of cockroaches inside the rover Centipede and have them crawl out of the rover upon landing on Mars. These cockroaches will go forth and multiply all over the red planet, thus proving that life is sustainable. Then we will one day be able to join the cockroaches on Mars and live there with them happily ever after. Because man would never consider moving to a new planet without his beloved cockroach there to keep him company.”

He got a lot of laughter when he was done. Who would have thought visiting a meeting could be such fun?

Donna entered the room with a smile. We were still giddy from Charlie’s cockroach story. She listened to the same question while nodding her head slowly.

“The new rover will be called Export.” She said. “And it will be of no surprise to you that Mars will become a haven for single men because we all know that Men are from Mars.”

We laughed. Ok. Maybe I laughed a little louder than every one else.

“Mars will be filled with wonderful places for single women to meet all the single men we have exported there from all over the world. Because I’ve been all over this earth and there are no decent men left here. Really. I’m not kidding. So. Mars will be a place for singles to meet each other without all those stodgy old, crabby married people around getting in our way.”

We laughed and clapped when she was done. Yes. I laughed the longest.

After a few minutes of deliberation, the judges announced Dom the winner. He was less than happy about having to go to another competition.

“What if I don’t want to go? I might be busy. I hate those competitions.”

We laughed at him. Sometimes winning is a lot like losing.

I was feeling pretty good. Maybe I’d be a visitor forever and sit back and enjoy the show. I mean. Why participate when watching was such fun?

Stan turned to me. “Ok, Holly. I have a question for you.”

“Me?” I squeaked. “I’m just a visitor. I’m just a listener.” I thought they understood about the air conditioning.

He ignored my plea of insanity. “Have you heard about what’s going on with the prisoners of war in Iraq?”

“Please.” I begged. “Nothing political, ok?”

“Just do your best.” He insisted.

“Nothing from current events.” I whined. Sure. I knew about the prisoners. But. Could I talk about them? For two whole minutes?

Stan went into hibernation contemplating a woman who wouldn’t discuss current events. The president of the club stepped up.

“I have a question for Holly.” She smiled, encouragingly. “If you were to write your obituary, what would it say?”

I paled as I stood. No. I didn’t pale because I was sick. I paled because I had to speak in front of the group. And. My mind was a blank. And. My mouth was dry. And. I had nothing to say. Maybe it would be easier to speak if I had a hit of oxygen and a shot of vodka like I enjoyed last weekend in Aspen at Joe and Cleo’s wedding.

Um. Um. What should my obituary say? ‘Don’t tred on me?’ No. Too stupid. Um. Maybe, ‘If you owe me money, pay my mother?’ No. Too unlikely. (When would I ever have money to loan out to anyone?)

I shifted from one foot to the other. “Um…. ..” I can’t believe the first word I said in a Toastmasters club was um. They count ‘ums’ against you here. There was a mark against me. The first word out of my mouth was a mark against me. I was already a failure. Great.

Ok. I’d try again. “If I were to write my obituary…” I was stalling. No. Not out of fear. I had no idea what to say. “If I were to write my very own obituary….” I said again. Um. How do people think on command? When standing? How do they do it? Ok. This time…. This time… I’d say something.

I cleared my throat. “If I were to write my own obituary…” would I get points for saying that obituary line three times? Come on brain. Come on brain… I took a deep breath. “I…. would….. write….. that…. I always did whatever I wanted to do.”

Everyone nodded approval.

Yeah. But. Managing to say one sentence wasn’t the goal. I opened my mouth again, daring words to come out. “I’ve always done what I wanted to do, but people haven’t always approved of what I’ve done with my life.”

Everyone laughed.

“But I’ve always done whatever I’ve wanted to do, anyway.”

I sat down to their thunderous applause. Well. Maybe it wasn’t thunderous. But. At least I had given them a reason to make some noise. And. It didn’t matter whether they had offered up a congratulations clap or a pity clap, perhaps it was time for me to step up to the podium.

Who knows. Maybe next week I’ll actually turn in my visitor’s pass and join. Maybe I’ll even give a speech before I return to work in August.

Nah. Doubt it.

Wanna try another column? How about #182 Calendar Boy's Invisible Itch which is about a young hottie trying to talk me up.... or more....

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