Bathroom Adventure

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
It's been a strange day. Not quite my deepest work, but hey. I just go with my inspiration

Submitted: January 03, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 03, 2008



Go ahead.  Call me crazy.  Pulling an all-nighter the day after break.  Pulling an all-nighter period is insane enough.  Actually though, the less sleep I get, the less sleep I want.  The more I get, the worse I feel.  Interesting how that works.

The problem is, I get my energy at night.  And by energy, I mean, like, major rushes of adrenaline.  Eyes wide, fingers busy at the keyboard, ears tuned to my online radio, I write for fun, avoiding schoolwork at all costs.  At least, that’s how I spent my break.  Tired at night, perky in the morning.  Then school came.  I figured…actually I don’t even know what I figured.  I just know I kept doing what I was doing.

For example, last night, I was intent on getting through the night without an ounce of sleep (I’ve done it once before so I know it’s possible). Yet at 4am, as I was reading my Bible, I fell asleep.  Actually, it was a conscious choice, except I had told myself “I’ll wake up in a few minutes and if I’m still tired I’ll set my alarm.”  Too bad I didn’t set that alarm.

I wake up more than three hours later and stare at my watch: 7:23.  I jump (literally jump) out of bed and try to get ready.  I feel agonized, stressed, angry, anxious…pretty much any word you can think of to describe a bad mood.  My mom doesn’t help any.  She says “Did you call you dad?”  Of course, the one day he can’t pick me up is the day I need a ride. So I sigh, hang up the phone and reluctantly ask my mom for a ride.  She says okay, but we have to leave now.  I whine: “But my first period teacher won’t let me in…she’ll make me go to lock-out.”

“I don’t care if you have to sit in the principal’s office!  If you don’t want to stay home today, you’re going with me now.”  Now, as in twenty minutes later.  Her makeup always does take a while.

The ironic thing was, I really did want to stay home.  I wasn’t looking forward to the day at all.  First of all, my teacher (though I love her) is one of the strictest women I’ve ever met.  If you come in even two seconds after the bell rings, that’s it, you’re gone.  Doesn’t matter if you have a signed parent note saying you overslept, or if it was bad traffic and you ran all the way to class, she will absolutely not let you stay.  I always felt bad for my friends who unintentionally showed up late, only to get kicked out.

Well, for the first time, that late person was going to be me.  I just couldn’t bear the thought of walking in that classroom.  As it turns out, I got to school at 8:15, an hour after the bell had rung, and thirty minutes before it would ring again.  The question was, where should I go?  The first thought that popped into my head, besides not class, was the office.  That’s where you sign in when you’re late…that’s the “right” thing to do, right?

Well, I chose a different path.  First, I walked towards my second period class, planning to sit outside the door of the classroom, reading a book or doing something inconspicuous but productive.  Slight problem.  All the art kids were hanging out, doing their art, in the hallway.  So I pace, up and down the hallway, hoping no one will notice me.  Finally, it comes to me: the bathroom!  I’d always heard about people skipping class, going into the bathroom, and standing on the toilet so no one could see their feet….it was a bad idea, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

So I enter the bathroom, dump my bookbag, water bottle, bag of leftover Christmas candy, and purse in front of the stall.  Guess I wasn’t as invisible as I’d hoped.  I enter the stall, deciding to take my purse after all, and take out my mp3 player.  It’s good, encouraging music.  For a good…oh…seven minutes, I stay in the stall, attempting to de-stress, waiting for the bell.

Then I hear the door. Is it a teacher or a student? I wonder.  Of course I’m not going to come out, so I just keep on wondering.  I stare at the graffiti on the wall of the stall.  “Deb and TJ forever.”  Why does it feel like someone in middle school wrote that?  Not nearly as entertaining as the one in the other stall: “Kids, don’t do drugs.  Become a celebrity and you’ll get them for free.”

Finally the toilet flushes and the door closes. Five seconds later it opens again.  I start getting a little edgy.  I really don’t want anyone to find me in here, even though it’s obvious I am here.  I wait – silence – but the door doesn’t close.  Seconds pass…it feels like hours.  I wonder if I should emerge from hiding.  Hey, maybe it’s even someone I know.  Wait, would that be a good or bad thing?

Slowly, I reach behind me and flush the toilet.  Lots of noise, then more silence.  Do I come out or not?  I can’t believe this! What happened to my decision making skills?  Maybe they got flushed down the toilet…

After a final moment of awkward silence, I do emerge.  And for a split second, I think I recognize the girl.  Then I realize she’s a stranger…but I still recognize her.  One of the art girls, from the hallway.  Great, just great.

She smiles awkwardly.  I look for papertowels, even though my hands aren’t wet.  Not surprisingly, there are none to be found.  She opens the heavy door and finally leaves – not a word spoken between us.

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  Glance at my watch: 8:26.  Are you kidding me?  I’ve barely wasted ten minutes hiding out in the bathroom? Well, I did have to use the bathroom….but not for ten minutes. 

Anyway, finally, I put my bookbag back on my shoulders and exit the bathroom.  Where’s my next stop?  Hmm.  I could go outside.  No, the weather is way too cold.  I’m still freezing from being dropped off in the parking lot.  More pacing it is.  I walk around, cautiously, slowly, yet trying to look like I have a sense of purpose.  Just in case I run into an adult.

I look at my watch for the last time: 8:39.  Perfect.  Now’s my time to go the office.  Timidly, I walk that direction. On the way, I run into the same janitor I just saw five minutes ago.  He must think I’m…..mental.

I feel the brisk air as I walk between buildings.  Finally, I go up to the desk.

“I just got here…do I need to sign in?” As if I didn’t already know the answer.

“Yeah, right here hon,” says the older lady I’ve seen too many times before.

“So what should I do now?” The real question.

“Go to lockout,” she retorts without hesitation.  “Nah, I take that back.  The bell’s about to ring.” Implying I chill in the office?  Works for me.

So I sit down, and pull out a book to read.  Smile at the girl across from me.  Wonder why she’s there.

“Ladies, why don’t you start walking to class now?  I think if you do, the bell will ring as you’re on your way?” A different voice from behind the desk interrupts my reading.  So much for being productive.

I begin to walk back where I was, for the millionth time.  As soon as I get outside, I lower my eyes.  In the next building is a gathering of black guys all dressed up in their furry hoods and hats.  I open the door to B hall and briskly walk by.  “Hey gurrrrrl,” I hear.  I turn for a second, smiling.  “Hey can I get yo digits?” Wordlessly, I continue walking.  I hate it when that happens. Actually, I just hate the fact that the only guys who hit on me aren’t… type.

Anyway, the bell still hasn’t rung yet.  I’m like twenty feet from class and it hasn’t rung yet!  So I stare at the walls.  Wonder if any of these posters are interesting.  Actually, here’s one about writing…I love writing!  Students must submit a piece of creative writing.  What are the restrictions…?  8-11th grade.  Darn.  Oh well.  There’s the bell.

And suddenly, I’m not so comforted that the bell actually rang.  It actually just….adds to my misery.  Slowly, friends approach, standing outside the door with me.  I’m not alone!  All around me, I hear voices: “How was your break??” “What did you do for Christmas?”  “What gifts did you get?” 

Everyone was unbelievably happy.  But there I stood, in the midst of the crowd, feeling really...unhappy.  But hey, the day has to go on, right?  It’ll get better…I think.  Above all, I just hope I never have to go on another bathroom adventure.


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