I loved 7th grade. Middle school for me was like high school for most people: fun, carefree, and I had a close knit group of friends who shared a bond like no other.
One day at the cafeteria, when I was sitting next to my 3 closest friends, the urge to urinate hit me like I ton of bricks. I had never been to the bathroom near the cafeteria, so I asked one of my friends where it was.
"You just walk out the main doors and take a right... it'll be on your left."
"Ok!" and off I went. I was in a big hurry, so I didn't see the huge graphic icon of a boy stick figure right next to the door I walked thru.
I was immediately confused. Why were there sinks so low to the ground? Where were the knobs for hot and cold? Why the hell did it stink so bad?
And then I saw Brian. He was at the furthest "sink" and turned his head, ever-so-slightly, towards me as my sneakers made an awful squeaking sound on the tile below me. We froze in mutual horror as I took in what I saw: a platinum blonde haired boy of 12, holding himself near the sink, which I now had discovered was a urinal. After what seemed like 30 minutes, but was in reality only a few seconds, I turned on my heel and ran out.
I was so mortified that I didn't even remember that I needed to use the women's facilities... Meanwhile, Brian and I never acknowledged that this shameful observation on my part had been partaken. No harm, no foul were our mutual tacit understandings.
Of course I did reveal my now hilarious story to my best friends, who promptly questioned me on what it looked like, did he say anything, did I say anything, were there regular toilets, etc. I embellished as any middle school girl would.
One day at the cafeteria, when I was sitting next to my 3 closest friends, the urge to urinate hit me like I ton of bricks. I had never been to the bathroom near the cafeteria, so I asked one of my friends where it was.
"You just walk out the main doors and take a right... it'll be on your left."
"Ok!" and off I went. I was in a big hurry, so I didn't see the huge graphic icon of a boy stick figure right next to the door I walked thru.
I was immediately confused. Why were there sinks so low to the ground? Where were the knobs for hot and cold? Why the hell did it stink so bad?
And then I saw Brian. He was at the furthest "sink" and turned his head, ever-so-slightly, towards me as my sneakers made an awful squeaking sound on the tile below me. We froze in mutual horror as I took in what I saw: a platinum blonde haired boy of 12, holding himself near the sink, which I now had discovered was a urinal. After what seemed like 30 minutes, but was in reality only a few seconds, I turned on my heel and ran out.
I was so mortified that I didn't even remember that I needed to use the women's facilities... Meanwhile, Brian and I never acknowledged that this shameful observation on my part had been partaken. No harm, no foul were our mutual tacit understandings.
Of course I did reveal my now hilarious story to my best friends, who promptly questioned me on what it looked like, did he say anything, did I say anything, were there regular toilets, etc. I embellished as any middle school girl would.
No comments:
Post a Comment