I've reached the point in my life where I've had to come to terms with an uncomfortable realization - my dating life isn't all it could be. I wish I could pretend that the signs have been subtle, but unfortunately, they haven't. I went out with a girl recently who cut our date short in the middle of dinner so that she could go home and do her taxes. Another date actually turned to me in the middle of dinner and accused me, "You hate me because I'm a vampire, don't you?" A third young lady accidentally stabbed me during desert with her lit cigarette while illustrating a point about her ex-husband.
The way I see it, there are two possible explanations. 1) I have somehow earned the undying emnity of a chef who follows me from restaurant to restaurant and sneaks some sort of psychoactive substance into the food, or 2) I've been dating the wrong kind of women. I really need to meet a diferent sort of woman. I should date someone like Miss New Hampshire.
Which is why I go to the Miss New Hampshire 2001 pageant in high spirits - I just may meet Miss Right. Yes, I realize that the odds of actually being able to meet her are slim, let alone asking her out on a date. Yes, I understand that the odds of her looking through the stagelights, making eye contact with me in the audience and feeling that special tingle in her spine are slim. And yet, think about it - the women in this contest have been prescreened. They are beautiful - that goes without saying. Contest rules have insured that they are of the highest moral character. They are talented. As the contest organizers are at great pains to point out, this is a scholarship program, not a beauty pagent, so each girl is a scholar. I make my way into Central High School's McAllister Theater and take my seat, nervous but optimistic.
The opening production number is both encouraging and intimidating. All 16 contestents sing, dance and introduce themselves in a few words. The good news is that, as expected, all the girls are lovely. The fact that they dance so well however, is a strike against them. Women who dance so well would expect to dance from time to time, presumably with me - an ordeal I'd really like to spare these women. Randi-Lee Glickman - Miss Merrimack - is absolutely stunning. Unfortunately, her proud statement that she is a 17 year-old high school senior throws cold water on my libido and I cross her off my list.
The talent competition is perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the pageant. This is where we, the audience get a glimpse into the secret talents and souls of the contestants. Far and away - FAR AND AWAY - the best, is Jessica Morin, Miss Independence, a gifted soprano who performs an amazing Mozart aria. I'm struck by how talented and lovely she is, but find myself a bit intimidated - would this be a woman who could eat pizza and watch Six Million Dollar Man reruns with me? Doubt raises its head.
Much less intimidating is Melissa Amy Grise, who performs a baton-twirling routine. Say what you will about baton-twirling, but it's comforting in these uncertain times to know that someone still has respect for the classics. Besides, she's a damn fine baton-twirler, and the fact that she performs her entire act in a knee-brace hints that she might actually have the tolerance for pain necessary to dance with me.
Katherine Lise Pike, Miss Winnipesaukee, sings Colors of the Wind, the love-theme from Pocahontas. I take it as a good sign that she has an affinity for Disney, which would come in handy when we date and she (wait for it...) finds out how goofy I am.*
* Thank you! I'll be here all week. Drive safe!
Seeing the contestants in their evening gowns is a comforting experience. Every one of the contestants is lovely. The most stunning is Jessica Morin - the soprano. I am starting to become very intimidated. Also lovely is Katherine Pike. The woman sitting behind me gasps and says, "She's wonderful!" and I have to agree. I start to realize that I've picked a favorite.
It goes without saying that the most important aspect of any scholarship program is seeing the participants walk around in swimsuits and high heels. Unfortunately, the byzantine rules regarding what kind of swimsuits competitors can wear in Miss America competitions rule out attactive swimsuits, so nobody on stage looks as attractive as they really are (if that makes any sense). This is good for me however, as I start to feel less intimidated.
Not surprisingly, it is during the swimwear competition that I start noticing the smiles on the girls' faces. Now, my respect for the contestants' ability to smile continuously throughout a four-hour pageant is second-to-none. I challenge ANYBODY to maintain a sincere smile throughout a swimsuit competition in a drafty New Hampshire auditorium. Several girls' grins are less smiles than they are snarls. On the plus side, on several competitors, it's a sexy look that counterballances their swimsuits.
I'm feeling very good about things as the conpetition starts winding up. Points are tallied and five finalists are picked to go on to the final phase of the pageant - an on-stage interview with the emcee. To my profound surprise, Jessica Morin, the soprano, doesn't make the cut, but I manage to put her temporarily out of my mind because Katherine Pike, Miss Winnipesaukee - my favorite - does. (This is as good a place as any to express my gratification that the representitive for Winnipesaukee - the ice-fishing capital of the world - is named Pike.)
After a few minutes of glad-handing by the emcee, while the stage is set up, the five finalists take a seat onstage in their evening gowns for a final interview. Each girl spends three minutes or so answering a series of questions about her hopes and asperations. Most of tonight's responses are about what you'd expect - very earnest, very heartfelt and just a little bit pre-packaged. It may be my own lack of objectivity by this point, but it seems to me that Miss Winnipesaukee is more natural, more poised and more relaxed than her competition. She answers all questions with aplomb and while more earnest than you would want her to be on a date, she comes across as much more human and approachable than her competition.
The emcee's final question to her takes me offguard however.
"What's the toughest drink to make?" he asks.
"A really good Manhattan," she responds, smiling.
The emcee then explains to the audience that in addition to her undergraduate work, she has been to bartending school and is a certified bartender. I know that she is the woman for me.
The audience seems to feel the same way and applauds warmly. This takes her a little by surprise and she smiles charmingly and does an almost flirtatious hairtoss. It is as she runs her left hand through her hair that I feel the fingers of doom on my throat.
She has a diamond on her ring finger. I am crushed. Sighing, I decide to go with my fallback position - I'll give my heart to Miss Congeniality.
The emcee finishes questioning the rest of the contestants and sends them on their way, then does another ten minutes or so of glad-handing while their points are tallied.
Finally, the moment of truth arrives. All 16 girls come back on stage, stand patiently through a musical number and wait for the winners to be announced.
"First," announces the emcee, "Miss Congeniality!"
I ease up onto the edge of my seat. There is a drum roll.
"Katherine Lise Pike, Miss Winnipesaukee!!!!"
God obviously hates me.
The rest of the competition is a bit of an anticlimax. I'm pleased in theory that Katherine Pike goes on to win the whole enchillada (if I can be forgiven for referring to the crown of Miss New Hampshire in so imformal a manner), but owing to my personal disapointment, my applause rings hollow in my ears.
As I make my way from the auditorium, I start thinking that I need to develop a greater appreciation for classical opera.
