––Is the moment as embarrassing now as it was then?  Why or why not?

Allison: It was more embarrassing then—the rudeness of it, the absurd loss of self-control. Today, it seems to me more sad than embarrassing. I ended up leaving Melissa for someone else. I think I must have already been falling in love with that someone else. But that night, Melissa and I were too tired for omens. We just changed the sheets, got into bed, and went back to sleep.

Donner: Thankfully, my high school prom provided a fresh opportunity for horror, and the humiliation I suffered with the bronzer paled in comparison.  But that’s another story…

McLarty: Strangely enough, the embarrassment has grown over the years.  People I’ve never met before have bumped into me and said they heard the story of my immolation at a Hollywood party.  Sometimes I even tell the story on myself but midway through and right before “Hey, doll,” I’m sorry I started talking.

Schrank: It’s worse now. Every time I pick up a newspaper and recycle it, or straighten a cushion, or wash and iron a shirt that doesn’t need it, I wonder, isn’t there something joyful you’d rather be doing? I worry about raising a kid who would behave the same way. I wish that if someone spilled something in front of me during a fun moment, I could just leave the spill lie, to laugh and spill my own drink, sing a funny song, even. But I get up and find a rag and clean it up quick as I can, at first embarrassed and then furious with myself that I haven’t let the moment run wild.

 

Jaime Clarke is the author of the novel WE’RE SO FAMOUS, editor of DON’T YOU FORGET ABOUT ME: CONTEMPORARY WRITERS ON THE FILMS OF JOHN HUGHES, and co-founder of POST ROAD, a national literary magazine based out of New York and Boston.