I'm compelled to share them here with the hope that my pain and suffering may help some poor soul who is constantly the victim of misfortune and shame at parties and large gatherings ... or just walking home ...
My brother and I went to separate high schools. It's a long and rather uninteresting story so I won't bore you with details. It really had everything to do with a move in the early years of my high school education. We ended up living down the road from the high school that my brother attended.
On the days I was unfortunate enough to be without a car (yes, I was the kind of spoiled brat that got to drive to school ... a lot ... it was awesome) I had to take a transfer bus. A school bus.
It wasn't overly horrific as my friends - who still lived outside the city - would also have to take transfer buses so we would often end up together on the bus.
One particular day I was without friends on my way home on the bus. I was trying to ignore the idiotic grade nine conversation going on at the back of the bus about how they could scam their way into Dazed and Confused and was instead staring out the bus window dreaming about sun-tanning.
It was a hot day. And I, being the fashion icon that I was in high school, was wearing a short flowered skirt and cowboy boots. (I was going to do a whole paragraph explaining that my fashion choice that day was totally cool ... and that I lived in a smallish town at the time ... and "New Country" was HUGE because it was 1993 for crying out loud and everyone wore cowboy boots ... but I figured you would give me the benefit of the doubt and if you didn't you could do your own research ... or not ... but yeah, I really was cool).
Anyway ... I was on the bus, alone, staring at my giant backpack full of giant books for my stupid homework assignments for that day feeling irritated that I didn't have a car with music and air conditioning when I realized that the bus had stopped and all the grade nines were running across the parking lot to catch their transfer buses.
So I pulled my heavy backpack on while seated and jumped up and dashed off the bus. (I was pretty sure the bus driver was waiting for me to get off the bus so she could let out a giant fart ... she had a pained look on her face ...)
As I walked down the street I started noticing just how busy my street was at that time of day. There were a LOT of cars passing. And the cars would slow down to pass me as I walked down the road - which was good because I was afraid of being hit by some teenage lunatic out on a joyride after school with his friends.
I recognized some of the guys in the cars that passed ... my brothers friends with their parents or older siblings at the wheel ... they were leaning out and waving and hooting and banging the car door. I was smiling and waving and congratulating myself on being such a cool, wicked, older sister because my brothers friends all loved me. They were giving me the thumbs up. One car ... full of people I didn't even know ... pulled over to give me a high five.
I assumed the weather had thrown the entire city of Belleville into a state of euphoria.
When I got home I started up the steps to the front door when I noticed my bag was pulling on something at the bottom and on the sides.
I looked down and almost peed.
My skirt was fully hitched up at the back - held up by my backpack.
I had walked all the way home with my skirt caught up in my backpack. My bum had been hanging out all the way down the street.
I grew more and more ill as I relived the last fifteen minutes or so ... all the cars ... all the hooting ... all the high fives ... all because I was walking down the road in underwear and cowboy boots.
And I suddenly understood the pained look on the bus drivers face and vowed to punch her in the eye the next time I had to take the wretched bus for not pointing out to me that I was without coverage in the back "end zone" ...
No comments:
Post a Comment