To kiss or not to kiss

So today's catastrophe is not a huge one. I lent my nice Honda Civic to my brother for his honeymoon and instead am driving his piece of junk VW Jetta. I don't really mind junky cars- as long as they drive and are pretty cheap on gas, I don't care about the lack of heat or the taped up windows or the broken door handles or the broken brake light or the ripped seats or the cracked dashboard or the broken odometer etc. etc. Really, I don't mind all that.
What I do mind is that as I whipped into the parking lot at school today, the power steering cut out with a massive squeal. I wrestled with the wheel to get into a parking spot and just barely made it. Oh dear. Later when I got back into the car, it was working fine again. I suppose driving a car like this keeps me on my toes. (especially since the gas gauge doesn't work, unless driving 30 kilometers really does use up half a tank.)
But that is a normal part of life. Speaking of normal parts of life, this morning I went with all the other TWU grads to our grad rehearsal. We were sitting in a huge auditorium listening to the provost give us directions on how to walk up on stage, receive our diploma, shake hands with four different people, and then walk off the stage again. So normal. I was sitting next to my friend Benson and commented on how impersonal the handshake seemed. After all these years and all our acheivements, all we get is a handshake! What a way to celebrate!
Benson said, "Well, what would you rather, a hug and a kiss?"
I said that would maybe be better, since we need to be a more expressive culture anyway. All this cold handshaking- we should celebrate! Be happy!
You may be guessing what is coming next. If you have already guessed, my kudos to you.

Here it is: I foolishly, very foolishly, made a ten dollar bet with Benson that when I came to shake hands with the Faculty Dean, instead of shaking his hand I would give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Now I am playing the scene over and over in my mind of what will happen on Saturday. I will get up on stage in front of 400 people. I will receive my diploma. I will walk over to the Dean. As he puts out his hand I will throw my arms around him and give him a kiss on the cheek. My tassled cap will bump his and fly off. Perhaps he will call security and they will charge me for sexual harrassment. The President will come marching over and angrily snatch the diploma from my hand. My parents will be sitting in the second row shaking their heads in shame, and I will slowly walk out of the auditorium in disgrace.
Never again, I am telling myself, never again! My big mouth got me into trouble one more time, and this time I am really not happy about it. I suppose I could just suck it up and give Benson ten dollars. The problem is that I need my ten dollars to pay for gas for that stupid gas-guzzling piece of junk.
If only life were simple and I didn't have to deal with complex questions like 'to kiss or not to kiss'.