Tag: story

Walking In On Someone During a Quick Change

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Senior year, there was this new transfer student and he was *flame emojis*. Me and other girls in the drama class would always gossip about how good looking he was, like some Greek statue or something. Some of the girls thought he looked like Zac Effron, Personally, I think he kinda looks like Dacre Montgomery if I’m being honest.

So somewhere between these two actors, except like 6’4”.

He was generally referred to as “Hot Guy”, because of course. Anyways, when Hot Guy made the school play I was really surprised. I honestly hadn’t ever heard him so much as sneeze so I couldn’t imagine him on stage shouting lines with some booming voice. Well nonetheless, Hot Guy was in the cast and I was in the cast.

The play was See How They Run, which if you aren’t familiar, is a “six-door comedy”. In other words there are lots of people running in and out, mistaken identities, twists and all the shenanigans you could ever hope for.

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So because of the loony nature of the play, almost every single actor had at least ONE costume change. And in my high school, all of the non-musical plays were shooed out of the auditorium and crammed into a smaller theater room. Our backstage was not big enough for like separate dressing rooms, so we just had one trifold panel in the corner.

And also because the backstage was a tiny little area, we basically had to find a square inch to sit in and wait for our cues.

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Well, one performance, I was having a problem… an underwear problem. Like I don’t even know what brand or type I was wearing but whatever it was IT SUCKED. I was riding the train into wedgie central every time I so much as BREATHED. I needed to take care of this uncomfortable situation stat. And this kind of situation could only be taken care of in the most discreet way… if you be picking up what I be laying down…

I was like, HEY. Here is a gleamingly, brilliant idea. I’ll just slip behind the trifold and take care of this cotton mess of a thing… I’m sure you’ve already guessed where I’m going with this. I don’t know what I was thinking. Actually, yes I do, I wasn’t thinking at all. There were so many kids going in and out of the changing area, it would have been a miracle to not have caught someone back there.

Well, I did. I straight up WALKED IN ON SOMEBODY. And not just anybody, oh no. It was Hot Guy. HOT GUY. I just waltzed back there while FREAKING HOT GUY was in the middle of a quick change.

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Any second, sooner or later, would have been better. But he was at his most undressed point at the time of the walk in. Yup. Nothin’ but a tight pair of boxer briefs. (I just had to stop typing there to facepalm.) Like effing BURNED into my memory, the jingling sound of his belt as he desperately tried to cover himself back up and whisper-yelling, “Hey, hey, hey!” Ohhhhhhh my gosh. I think I said sorry like a hundred times in thirty seconds. A twenty-one-gun salute of apologizes as I RAN AWAY.

Walking in on anyone would have sucked. But walking in on hot guy was THE FREAKING BLUSHIEST WORST THING EVER. I couldn’t even look him in the face for a long time. People actually believed that I had walked in on him on purpose. !!!

 

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Like as IF I had actually planned out the moment that hot guy was going to be taking his pants off and just whoopsie daisy, lookie there, looks like I’ve accidentally gotten an eye full, oh darn. Even if I was interested in him at the time, like how would that creepy icebreaker even benefit me? “Hey, remember me? I’m the socially-demented girl who walked in on you almost naked. Here’s my number.” AND I COULDN’T even explain or defend myself, because SORRY I actually was just going back there to PICK SOME PANTIES OUT OF MY BUTT, OKAY!

Then again… I did end up dating Hot Guy for a couple of years… so I guess the whole thing wasn’t totally scarring.

The Time I Passed Out at Work

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Right out of high school I got a job as a seating hostess at an Italian restaurant. It was only my second day so I was trying to make a good impression. So when I got this monster of a stomach ache I didn’t want to tell anyone I was in pain.

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It was only my second day! I didn’t want to ALREADY be like, hi, I think I need to go home… or at least sit down. I couldn’t be a wimp like that when I knew that it could just very well magically resolve itself.

So instead of asking for a bit of a break or taking care of myself in any way, I did this: I stood at still as possible at the podium and locked my knees. I don’t know if anyone else has this kind of logic… but if I’m in pain I just stay as still as Dr. Grant trying to evade a T-Rex then I don’t have to feel my own insides.

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I stood stiffly like that for a couple of hours honestly. But I was not going to give in and tell everyone that I was suffering. That is not what I am about. I could be trapped under a cement roller and choose a squishy death over “bothering” someone with my needy problems.

I guess when you black out the first thing to go is your peripheral vision. That’s what happened to me anyway. It took me all the way to tunnel vision before I was like, hmm, I should probably say something to someone. I turned to my manager Kristin and all I got out was, “Hey, Kristin. I don’t feel very good–”

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It was weird. I could hear my other manager yell, “She’s going to pass out.” And I felt them catch me. But then all of the sudden I was asleep. I actually had a dream when I was passed out. I swear that’s always in the movies but that actually happened to me. I dreamt I was at a theme park with my mom and sister, so when I woke up on my back on a bench in a restaurant waiting area, I was more than a little disoriented. It took a minute to remember oh yeah, wait… wasn’t I at my new job?

Me:          What happened?

A Cook:   You passed out. Here have a coke. *hands me a class of soda*

Me:          Thanks? … What?

There were SO many people around. I don’t know how long I was out, but long enough to gather a small crowd. This one guest was like FRANTIC AF. He shoved past everyone to get to me and was like half-yelling at me.

Guy:      Are you a diabetic?

Me:        What? No.

Guy:      Are you sure?

Me:        Yeah…

Guy:      Do you want me to call your doctor to find out if you’re a diabetic?

Me:        I… I’m not a diabetic.

He shoved a little green mint into my hand (even though I was already holding a full glass of Coke)

Guy:      I grabbed a mint off my table, because you’re diabetic.

Me:        Oh, but I’m not… okay, thanks.

 

I was out long enough for them to have called my mom to come and get me, which if you knew the majestic levels of worry that my mother can achieve then you know how the rest of my day went. It was embarrassing to have to take sick leave not even 48 hours into this new job. But hey, at least I got a Coke and a mint…

The Time I Went to Festival of Colors

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Listen… can I tell someone else’s embarrassing story? Like I was involved, but mostly just to enjoy the misfortune of this particular person. I feel like it’s cheating to use my blog to embarrass other people but… I just really REALLY LOVE TELLING THIS STORY.

Okay, so we’ll call this guy… Sam. So Sam was my super close best friend. And we basically did everything together. One of the things we decided to do was go to The Festival of Colors.

If you don’t know, The Festival of Colors or Holi is a Hindu spring festival to celebrate love and life. Everyone gathers together to throw chalk paint on each other and it’s just a ridiculous amount of fun.

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We decided to go in the morning because Sam had a date to the Spring Formal later that evening. Why he thought he could do the three-hour drive there and back and still make it to the dance… beats me haha. But here’s the real kicker… they were going to have a day date activity and he actually had white-lied an excuse to get out of it so he could go to Festival of Colors instead. (I want to make it clear that Sam is not a d-bag even a bit and he felt really bad about this the whole time.)

So we get there and immediately decide that we’re going to go ALL IN on this experience. So we pushed through to get as much into the crowd as possible. We had so much chalk thrown on us that we went from lightly sprinkled to a thick layer of brown in like ten minutes.

Then Sam asks a couple of guys to hoist him up so he can crowd surf. Now I’ve been to more than a handful of concerts by then so I know that he’s A) about to be groped and B) about to have his shoes stolen. So I yell to him, “Quick! Give me your shoes! Give me your shoes!” But it was too late. As he desperately tried to untie his shoes, someone else beat him to it. They took his shoes off and threw them on the roof of the pavilion outside of the temple. So those were gone forever.

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Anyways. We finish out the rest of the event, Sam in his socks the whole time. And then suddenly we realize Woooooah. He is going to be late for the dance

We are FLYING home at the most dangerous speeds I’ve probably ever experienced in a car. We calculate that we would arrive home at the exact moment that his date was supposed to be showing up at his house. Now keep in mind that Sam was trying to keep his attendance at Festival of Colors a secret from her. Also, we were layered in two inches thick of chalk paint.

It’s also important to note that the only way I could convince my mom to give me permission to get that dirty was on the condition that I was not to come home that dirty. So I had planned to take a shower at Sam’s house… which is fine, except for now Sam is like asking me to hide until he leaves with his date so she doesn’t see another girl in a towel and misinterpret what’s going on. Does this sound like a rom-com yet?

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Somehow we miraculously beat her to the house. We rush inside and he yells at me before he hops in the shower, “Run into my room and pick out something for me to wear and lay it out on my bed!” Wait, what? Me??

I don’t even know what I grabbed for him. I think it was a black button-up shirt and a mustard yellow blazer… which I probably dusted with all the crap that was on my hands. The outfit was picked out but then we had another problem… Sam did not have an extra pair of shoes to wear. So he grabbed a pair of his brother’s which were honestly chewed up to hell and I think he would have been better off with socks.

Anyways, despite ALL OF THIS. He somehow gets showered and dressed JUST in time for the date to ring the doorbell. Now I’m hiding out in his room as per his wishes so I did not see the final product Sam that walked out the door…

But about four weeks later the dance pictures come back…

And OH. MY. GOOD. GRACIOUS.

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It was obviously a quick shower. Because he was still a bright pink hue. Not only that but he hadn’t gotten the mixes of chalk out from in between his eyelashes, so homeboy straight looked like was wearing liquid eyeliner. He looked like he was trying to go to the dance as the evil genie version of Jafaar.

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And with the bee outfit I picked out and the deformed shoes. Holy smokes.

The best part is that this poor girl had no idea about Festival of Colors… so I can only imagine what she thinks of the way her date showed up to this dance.

Ah. I love that story.