Well, well, well, survivors of public speaking, and lovers of on-stage disaster! If you thought your first foray into public speaking was like stepping on a banana peel, just wait until you hear the calamity that was my debut – a comedy of errors so grand, I would say it deserves its own movie for a titanic-sized disaster
Here goes...
It was 2012, I was in secondary school (high school). Yeah, It was the first time I was going to address an audience quite large, and let me tell you, in all honesty, I stopped feeling my stomach, how do I say this, it felt more like my abdomens were gone. I began to understand the meaning of true fear undiluted, I wish it ended there, but it didn't, the show was just beginning.
As I approached the podium, I prayed for salvation, however it came, I didn't care, but it never came, instead I was handed a mic 🎤 and blessed with heat waves, an unwanted generosity showered on me by my own body itself. I picked up the mic, which was nothing short of a miracle, at the same time I was trying so hard to control my stage-acquired Parkinsonism.
I managed to get the mic close to my mouth as my hands had now developed a mind of their own. I tried talking, but instead of talking, I let out a squeak, You know those scenes in movies where the protagonist suddenly develops a voice that sounds like a chipmunk? Well, that was me. I opened my mouth, and out it came... well, let's just say it wasn't the majestic oration I had envisioned.
I was so nervous that my tongue decided it needed a vacation in Bermuda, leaving my brain to fend for itself. My sentences resembled a tangled mess of earphones in the bottom of a backpack. I stuttered, stumbled, and mumbled my way through what was supposed to be a coherent speech.
But, ladies and gentlemen, I didn't stop there. Oh no! I decided to sprinkle in some "um"s and "uh"s like confetti at a New Year's Eve party. It was as if my brain had developed a sudden and inexplicable fascination with these filler words.
Image by Mari Smith from Pixabay
The audience, bless their hearts, looked at me like I was a lost puppy trying to find its way home. I had expected crickets, but instead, I got sympathetic smiles and nods. I'm pretty sure someone in the front row whispered, "There, there, it's going to be okay."
As I continued, I noticed that my palms had transformed into miniature fountains. I was creating my very own water feature on the podium. It was like my body had decided that if my words couldn't make a splash, my hands would do it for me.
At one point, I had a brilliant idea to turn things around or so I thought. I decided to make a joke about my nervousness. I said, "I'm so nervous that I feel like I'm giving a speech in my underwear!" The audience laughed, I thought things were finally turning around.
And then, in a moment that I could only be described as poetic justice, I knocked over a water glass. Water spilled everywhere, and I, in my infinite wisdom, tried to mop it up with the speech papers. I turned my speech into a soggy, ink-smudged masterpiece that could rival any abstract art.
But you know what, after all this, despite the sweat, stumbles, and soggy papers, I survived that first public speaking encounter. And you know what they say, "What doesn't kill you gives you an hilarious story to tell!"
So, in conclusion, if you ever at any point in this so-called life, and you find yourself trembling like a leaf in a hurricane before a speech, just remember my tale. You would eventually survive it
