The ring

The poster for the horror movie says it all. Before you die, you see the ring. That's pretty much how I felt last weekend.

My friend and I were wandering along Gertrude Street and she wanted to go into a jewellery store for a browse. I obliged.

I'm not a jewellery wearer but I did appreciate the craftsmanship of the pieces in this particular store. In fact, my eyes almost instantly gravitated towards a beautiful (and large) silver stag beetle ring. Maybe it was the biologists in me but I was mesmerised. So, of course, I asked to try it on.

Big mistake.

The ring got stuck.

At first, I think my friend and the store owner thought I was joking. And I assume people do occasionally joke about these things. But it was no joke. I tugged and tugged and it just wouldn't come off. I then contemplated just buying the thing to cut short the embarrassment ($500 isn't that expensive, I thought to myself).

The store owner, ever the professional, rushed to the back of the shop and returned with a bottle of hand wash. He squirted some of it onto my finger. But nope, the ring was still stuck.  

He then retrieved a bottle of water and ushered me outside onto the busy sidewalk. By this point, I had seen the ring and I truly wanted to die.

Fortunately, water did the trick and I managed to slip the ring off my finger. I politely handed it back to the shop owner, apologised profusely and quickly made my exit.