Thursday, March 21, 2013
I was in first grade, and our elementary school was hosting an annual Career Week. At the end of each day, someone from the town would come to our class and lie to us about how much they loved their job and try to steer us away from drugs and homelessness. If we were lucky, some of them brought gadgets like a gun or an owl or candy. Some of them were super helpful, like the summer camp director who brought a buzzard that bit him on the nose and drew blood. Others were a little more forgettable, such as the garbage man (who likely did drugs and at least looked homeless) and girls basketball coach. But, it was the last day of Career Week that we truly looked forward to. That Friday was career dress-up day! Yep. We could come to school wearing the outfit of our future career! Kids care about that stuff, and my elementary school cared about kids.
To the best of my recollection, my colleagues came to school that day wearing all kinds of things. From ballerinas to doctors to Ninja Turtles to fire-fighting princesses, our grade was decked out. Of course, yours truly had high aspirations. I knew I wanted to be where the action was. I wanted to be the man. I also wanted to avoid get bullied the rest of my life. So, I went to school dressed as a Tae Kwon Do instructor. Boom. I figured out from an early age that flying sidekicks were the quickest way to make huge bank.
Now, being a young first grader, I often needed help with things like getting dressed, and that day I wore my martial arts gee. Let's just say, a gee has to be secure. I mean, you can't exactly throw someone through a window when your clothes be fallin' off. So, in addition to your belt, you have to tie about six different knots within the shirt and pants that functionally make the entire getup one piece. Still tracking? It's basically a straight-jacket minus the folded arms. Now, being a young first grader, my mom wanted to make sure my gee didn't some how come loose as I chopped my fellow students' jugulars. Being the overprotective type, she made damn sure to tie every single knot into a double-knot. Yep. You know where this is going.
Off to school I went, dressed as an aspiring double-knot. Long story short, because of how tight my mother tied those knots, bathroom breaks were not really an option on Career Day. But, martial artists are known for white-knuckle discipline, which most certainly includes discipline of their bladders, right? Challenge accepted. All day I went without a single bathroom break as any good martial artist would. I went the whole entire day!! I mean, this was going to be my career. I had to play the part. I confidently took a few gulps of water at recess. No issues. I went ahead and ate lunch as normal. Not even phased. Afternoon nap time water and bathroom break. Pshhhh, I got this. I'm focused.
Then, later that day the unthinkable happened.
So, being a young first grader, you get into trouble. Sometimes when trouble strikes, the entire class gets punished. It's just the system. I don't recall the exact offense, but I remember that somehow the entire class ended up with the lights out, our heads down, and silent as the teacher paced the room for the last 15 min of class. Not a bad punishment, necessarily. But when you got a bladder the size of a basketball, it's torture.
There I sat. On the front row. Trembling. My greatest challenge yet, um, in life. I explicitly remember my thought process:
"Ok, I have 20 minutes to go. But then I have at least another 20-30 min bus ride home before I can use the bathroom. I can stay focused and wait. Or, I can go, right here, right now. Hmm. Ok, I've wet the bed before and sometimes it dries before I wake up. No one really notices. It's usually just damp. If I go, I have 20 minutes for it to dry. No one will notice. I got this."
So, I gladly abandoned my career aspirations and went with option two. Sorry, guys, but Daniel Son has left the building. Listen, I emptied the entire contents of my bladder on Burnet Elemetary's world. It was tantamount to someone running over a fire hydrant. It felt absolutely amazing. I cannot even begin to describe the relief, and I likely lost a few pounds in the process.
Now, the plan was simple. Stay still. Let it dry. Change the subject if anyone asks.
About 2 minutes into this brilliant idea, I heard the teacher stop in the back of our class. Again, I was on the front row.
"Eron, is this yours?"
I lifted my head, looked down, then looked at my teacher. The chair was dripping streams, I had advanced from white belt to yellow belt in a matter of seconds, and there was a golden river ever widening down the aisle towards the back of the room.
I had to think quick. As a martial artist, I tried to distance myself from the conflict. I looked at the girl sitting behind me and asked, "What did you do?" It didn't work. I was directed to the office where I called my dad to come pick me up.
My plan had failed, and I pissed away any future in martial arts. My outfit came to be known as the infamous "pee gee." And I hate double-knots.
Thank you for your time. Have a great day.
Put here by Eron at 9:40 AM