You know how you hear accounts of old women smacking around muggers with their handbags or random citizens pushing a wrecked car off of a complete stranger in an adrenaline-fueled heroic moment and your heart fills, however temporarily, with admiration for ordinary people turned remarkable by their circumstances? And you idly wonder what you would do in their shoes? Well, I found out.
Last Friday night I was playing Crack the Case at my fellowship's game night with five of my friends when I noticed someone crossing the parking lot towards us. I watched them approach and when I could make out what they were wearing, I froze. A hooded sweatshirt pulled up over their hair and one of those paper painter's masks that covered his nose and mouth. He bobbed his head to the side, looked through the glass door at our merry scene, and pushed it open. I want to say I shouted, pulled some Crouching Tiger moves as I ran across the folding tables, did anything at all really, but no. No, I sat paralyzed, thinking "I'm about to die for the $1.25 in my pocket, this is so lame" and did absolutely nothing to warn anyone. As it turned out, it was just this mentally ill kid who shows up sometimes who happened to be "in disguise" that night. But that solves only half the problem. What the hell is wrong with me? Where did my spine go? As my friend Erin said afterward, we found out which Hogwarts house I'm in: It's Hufflepuff all the way, baby.
No comments:
Post a Comment