So, it'll probably prove an uneventful weekend. I thought a little reminiscing might shake things up.
I remember the last day of school when I was in sixth grade with a slight cringe. (Wait for it.)
My sixth grade teacher is probably one of the best I ever had. Sadly, this is overshadowed by the fact that it was one of the worst years I had in childhood. This has to do with the fact that most of the kids in my class were a bunch of douche bags. (I'll leave that for another time, perhaps.)
So, my teacher, in all his wisdom, organized an outing for all of us on the last day of school. I think it might be pretty typical, especially for the elementary set, to get out of the classroom before the start of the most hallowed of times - the summer vacation. We went to some park for a giant picnic and water fight. This was to be followed by a trip to the bowling alley for a little competitive pseudo-sport.
I thought this teacher was pretty cool, coming up with tons of strange activities for us to participate in. It's funny - thinking of those things now, it was like team-building exercises that bored middle management make their employees do, like retreats and those stupid trust-building activities (think: falling-backward-and-believing-that-your-partner-will-catch-you type of stuff). Maybe I'll tell you other stories of this guy another time.
Anyway, the picnic went off without a hitch. Then came the water fight. Nothing overly embarrassing. Then we went to the bowling alley.
You see, dear readers, I had a bag with a change of clothes with me in anticipation of having to change them after the water fight. I had been wearing my swimming suit under my clothes thinking this would make for easy access to the water fight. Turns out, I didn't even need them. The water fight, though it happened, didn't really happen for me. Instead, I only got a little wet, then I sat out the rest of it, brimming with boredom. I might've chatted with a friend. Details of this are sketchy. What I do know is that the changing of the clothes that was supposed to take place never occurred. So, when we got to the bowling alley, I still had the bag with the clean clothes.
Now, I bowled a little. It was alright. Nothing to brag about. (I might've actually knocked down a couple pins - I don't really remember.)
As we were gathering our stuff to leave and get back to the school for the buses and the final "adios" from the teachers, a friend of mine thought she'd do me a favor as I was tying my shoes and picked up my bag. Sadly, she grabbed it oddly and most of my clothes, including my little nude-colored training bra, fell out onto the cigarette burned carpet.
This did get some attention, to my horror. There was some outbursts of laughter by all the popular kids (okay, more than "some") and some sympathetic looks from the other sixth grade teachers, who were female.
I, to my credit, blushed in silence, whipped the bra and other clothing off the disgusting floor, stuffed it back in the bag, and promptly headed for the bus.
All these years later, I'm trying to remember why the bag was with me in the bowling alley and not kept on the bus. I have a feeling it has something to do with my teacher saying that we needed to take our belongings with us (theft reasons maybe?).
What I do remember is feeling horrified that I'd have to ride out the rest of the school year with the memory of my sad little bra laying there on the floor, everyone pointing and laughing (amplified in memory for maximum mortification).
And then, happily, I remembered it was "the last day". I'd be in junior high in the fall, and the kids from my class would probably forget all about the incident.
Now, I'd happily show off my bra to whoever wants to see. (Okay, not really, but this girl does need some action soon or she might forget how to do it altogether.)
Do you ever have moments where the feelings of a particular event come rushing back in a flood, causing a spontaneous "Oh f---!"?
I remember the last day of school when I was in sixth grade with a slight cringe. (Wait for it.)
My sixth grade teacher is probably one of the best I ever had. Sadly, this is overshadowed by the fact that it was one of the worst years I had in childhood. This has to do with the fact that most of the kids in my class were a bunch of douche bags. (I'll leave that for another time, perhaps.)
So, my teacher, in all his wisdom, organized an outing for all of us on the last day of school. I think it might be pretty typical, especially for the elementary set, to get out of the classroom before the start of the most hallowed of times - the summer vacation. We went to some park for a giant picnic and water fight. This was to be followed by a trip to the bowling alley for a little competitive pseudo-sport.
I thought this teacher was pretty cool, coming up with tons of strange activities for us to participate in. It's funny - thinking of those things now, it was like team-building exercises that bored middle management make their employees do, like retreats and those stupid trust-building activities (think: falling-backward-and-believing-that-your-partner-will-catch-you type of stuff). Maybe I'll tell you other stories of this guy another time.
Anyway, the picnic went off without a hitch. Then came the water fight. Nothing overly embarrassing. Then we went to the bowling alley.
You see, dear readers, I had a bag with a change of clothes with me in anticipation of having to change them after the water fight. I had been wearing my swimming suit under my clothes thinking this would make for easy access to the water fight. Turns out, I didn't even need them. The water fight, though it happened, didn't really happen for me. Instead, I only got a little wet, then I sat out the rest of it, brimming with boredom. I might've chatted with a friend. Details of this are sketchy. What I do know is that the changing of the clothes that was supposed to take place never occurred. So, when we got to the bowling alley, I still had the bag with the clean clothes.
Now, I bowled a little. It was alright. Nothing to brag about. (I might've actually knocked down a couple pins - I don't really remember.)
As we were gathering our stuff to leave and get back to the school for the buses and the final "adios" from the teachers, a friend of mine thought she'd do me a favor as I was tying my shoes and picked up my bag. Sadly, she grabbed it oddly and most of my clothes, including my little nude-colored training bra, fell out onto the cigarette burned carpet.
This did get some attention, to my horror. There was some outbursts of laughter by all the popular kids (okay, more than "some") and some sympathetic looks from the other sixth grade teachers, who were female.
I, to my credit, blushed in silence, whipped the bra and other clothing off the disgusting floor, stuffed it back in the bag, and promptly headed for the bus.
All these years later, I'm trying to remember why the bag was with me in the bowling alley and not kept on the bus. I have a feeling it has something to do with my teacher saying that we needed to take our belongings with us (theft reasons maybe?).
What I do remember is feeling horrified that I'd have to ride out the rest of the school year with the memory of my sad little bra laying there on the floor, everyone pointing and laughing (amplified in memory for maximum mortification).
And then, happily, I remembered it was "the last day". I'd be in junior high in the fall, and the kids from my class would probably forget all about the incident.
Now, I'd happily show off my bra to whoever wants to see. (Okay, not really, but this girl does need some action soon or she might forget how to do it altogether.)
Do you ever have moments where the feelings of a particular event come rushing back in a flood, causing a spontaneous "Oh f---!"?
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