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I met Kim the first day of the conference. I didn't want to like her. She was everything I am not. Kim is very tall and blond. I am very not tall and blond. She's also beautiful. On a good day I'm cute, in a Joanie from "Happy Days" sort of way.

Before I could stop myself from being endeared by her self-depreciating wit, I found out she was also the global winner of the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition in the human interest category. And, wait for it. …She had never really written anything in her life.

I, on the other hand, have been writing for 30 years. I make my living at it. I've had a fairly good journalism career and have won awards for my writing.

Obviously, I could not possibly like Kim.

Still, I was impressed with her subtle lack of boundaries and her humorous sense of discernment, along with our mutual attachment to the bar at happy hour. I suspected we were both slightly introverted, even though we worked our way through the room, chatting with strangers and laughing in mostly all the right places. By the time dinner was served, I was tipsy. So, I followed my new friend to her table (which, it turned out, was the VIP winners' table) and pulled up an extra chair. I didn't realize my deviation from proper etiquette until a photographer came around with a large camera and asked, "Is this the winners' table?" My answer was to head back to the bar for yet another glass of Chardonnay to contemplate calling a cab back to my hotel.

Instead, I swallowed my now pungent-tasting pride and returned to the table where Kim charitably explained that I was her "friend" and we wanted to sit together. At this point we had known each other all of two hours. She could easily have shunned me to my proper place. Instead, she was willing to appear equally ignorant of protocol and perhaps go down in history as the woman who thought it was OK to bring any old drunk to her assigned VIP table.

Now, beautiful, smart, talented, tall Kim was also…gracious. Great.

On the way back to the hotel, I read her award-winning piece. Of course I wanted to not like it. I wanted to find typos and smirk at her lack of creativity and shun her for her obvious absence of experience. Instead, I cried at the honest beauty of her words and fought back pangs of spiteful envy. I found myself chanting something I once heard Madeleine Albright say, "There's a special place in Hell for women who don't support other women." And surely, I did not want to go to Hell.

Meanwhile, I continued my string of gaffes - such as getting my skirt caught on a rose bush on my very glamorous entrance into the Marriott, taking a selfie video while trying to get a photo of Phil Donahue after interrupting his dinner and locking myself out of my hotel room while wearing Hello Kitty jammies topped off with an abundant head of Phyllis Diller morning hair.

Kim, of course, continued to be recognized for her newfound talent and her beauty. "That's her," people whispered as we walked down the hall. "I think she's a model, too," one lady added. Despite my most fervent wish that she would turn obnoxiously arrogant, Kim remained charmingly humble. And, worse yet, I was starting to like her.

Finally, on day three, she showed up with a long plastic strip on the back of her new, stylish capris that stated repeatedly in 18-point bold typeface: "Size 8, Tummy Control." For a moment, I considered leaving it there, but something in me said, "This is my friend, and I must protect her from all those women who might delight in Blondie needing tummy control."

And so, I pulled the strip off and we giggled like eighth grade girls in sex ed class. Later, Kim ate a day-old burrito and vomited on her way to the airport and got stuck in Detroit (still vomiting) when her flight was cancelled. She was beginning to seem normal and almost lovable by this point, so I felt nothing but sympathy and concern for my new friend.

It has only occurred to me since returning home that Kim taught me quite a few things in the three days at the conference. Mostly, she taught me grace.

Oh, and always, always check your clothes for tags before leaving the hotel room…

-Holly Kelsey-Henry

Holly Kelsey-Henry is actually a really nice person who lives in Wisconsin. She is the owner of DownWrite Creative and makes her living as a writer - some days more profitably than others. She is a former award-winning journalist and still writes for newspapers and magazines. She and Kim have become good friends and now send each other emails on almost a daily basis.