By the second day I was just about fed up with the intern’s magical powers of amazing youthful sparkly awesome cuteness, and resorted to mentally hissing at her from the back shadows of our company booth where in the darkness my frumpiness could be less evident.
Then suddenly! The fateful event that would change the intern and my relationship (cue dramatic music)… FOREVER:
The intern had gone to the bathroom, and the zipper of her miniskirt had got caught in her hosiery and broke off the zip rail completely. She came running back from the bathroom swathed in her coat and I probably wouldn’t have cared less (Just take a cab back to the hotel and change, man) if not for her lunging into my shadow and crying out to me for help.
Calling out to me. By name. With tears a-glistening.
If you had not already known, I happen to have this inexplicably crippling weak spot for cute things. This is why I love kittens and stickers and little hair pins and stuff otherwise only kindergarteners might covet. But if something is HANDICAPPED and cute, like an adorable soft toddler in a leg cast coming down a plastic slide and falling on his cute little diapered butt (actually viewed video clip of someone’s child), then my heart is instantly sold and this fiercely protective maternal (?) instinct comes exploding up from inside and if anything or anyone done gone hurt MY handicapped and cute thing, I WILL CUT YOU UP.
A happy ending: I fixed her zipper and saved the day (and the skirt). I then proceeded to all but smother her with love and care and affection for the entire rest of the trip.
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