It came the time that every adult dreaded, feared, and despised; I had to have my wisdom teeth removed. For weeks, even months before having the procedure done, I worried myself sick about it. But the day came, and I had to put on my big girl undies and get everything in order. By that, I mean preparing my husband to handle everything after surgery. 10-1 I wasn’t going to be a good candidate for it.

I remember lying in the chair while they wrapped cords and IV’s around me. They strapped oxygen to my nose and assured me everything would be okay. I got the distinct feeling they were preparing for the worst with all the nonsense strapped to me. I just smiled and pretended it didn’t bother me. Ah, but my face wouldn’t let me lie!

“Are you okay,” one of the nurses asked.

I nodded. I figured telling her I was about to throw up wouldn’t help speed the process along. Then the dentist walked in, he looked at my vitals on the screen and then leaned over me.

“Hey, Laura,” he said, “We’re going to take good care of you. I’m going to start administering the anesthesia—”

The next thing I know, I’m sitting in a random wheelchair, in the middle of a room I’d never seen before. I couldn’t feel my face or anything for that matter. Of course, I was really dazed and sleepy, but that didn’t stop my face from reacting. Occasionally a nurse or the doctor would bend down and look at me, face to face.

You know, even under anesthesia I had boundary issues. It was remarkable.

They wouldn’t say anything, they’d just look at me and then move on. But each time, that prompted me to give them my best ‘why are you here’ look. Normally, it would have been toned down a bit, but not with whatever they gave me. They got the full, unadulterated expression. I’m assuming that’s why they didn’t stay close long.

Each time I made a face at them, I could hear someone snicker behind me. It wasn’t until minutes later that I could feel someone’s hand rubbing my shoulder.

I turned to give whatever pervert that had their hands on me an awful look, only to find my husband.

Hello.

I don’t know how he got there, or how long he had been there, maybe the whole time? He was, however, enjoying the show my facial expressions were putting on.

Then came the time to leave. Which meant I had to walk to the door assisted. I wasn’t sure who was in charge, but someone needed to tell them this was a bad idea.

“Okay,” the nurse said, “Do you think you can stand up?”

She’s clearly never read any of my blogs.

I remember slipping my foot out of the footrest, I leaned forward to push myself up but out of nowhere, the carpet hurdled itself towards me. Rude.

“Okay, maybe not just yet,” the nurse called out as she caught me.

I tried to tell you.

My husband’s still giggling.

Finally, they got me to the car. My husband was starting the car when he looked at the prescription they had given me. I told him earlier that if he had any questions afterwards, to contact our pharmacist, Teresa. He had a question of course and asked me. I stared at him for a moment, wondering how he thought I could answer him. I looked like some odd version of a zombie chipmunk. Bloody gauze was stuffed in every corner of my cheeks. Not to mention, I was only working on 2% brain power at that point and all that juice was being used up to keep myself from drooling.

Bless my husband's heart, he goes through a lot because of me.

I did have enough brain power left to ask for his phone, where I then typed out specific instructions on where to call Teresa, what to ask her, and what to do from that point.

When I handed him back the phone, he stared at it for a while before he looked back up at me.

“Uh— you want me to call Teresa?”

I could not have been any more specific in my instructions. I nodded, all I wanted to do was lay down. He nodded back, looking a little concerned and a lot confused.

It wasn’t until later that night that I could form a decent thought. My husband came by and checked on me periodically. Right before bed, he asked me what I remembered from that day. Which wasn’t much. I then asked him how I got in the recovery room and how long I had been there. He informed me that I had gotten out of the surgical chair on my own, got in the wheelchair where they rolled me into the recovery room, and then called him back to sit with me.

Ladies and gentlemen, that was a lie. I wasn’t conscious until at least 15 minutes AFTER my husband entered the recovery room. I know. I was there. But everyone else was convinced I had done this on my own. Maybe they took some anesthesia juice too?

But he continued to tell me that they had asked me a whole bunch of questions before I was ‘fully’ awake, to which I answered truthfully. God help us all. They don’t call it truth serum for nothing. I don’t remember the questions or my answers.

“At least I got the prescription thing figured out,” I mumbled, thinking back to the specific instructions I had typed out earlier.

A smile stretched across my husband’s face, “Do you want to see what you typed?”

​Saved onto this man's phone, was the following text I had sent him under anesthesia.
 
Akdi; jdifkjaa; Teresa ki ewoir
Jkjdiafkel oaahudojkjk ihikdiofo555
Dja4574 aodhfodljdodj dldioas100
 
I worked so hard on that too.  

It was lunch time and T and I wanted nothing more than to leave work for a while. We hopped in my car and rode to the nearest place that served quick hot dogs and hamburgers. On the ride there we talked a lot about different things, I can’t remember what. But when we entered the drive thru, for whatever reason, we fell quiet.

I pulled up to the speaker and waited until they asked for my order.

“Yeah, can I get a hamburger all the way? With fries. Then, I’ll take a hot dog with fries.”

“That’ll be $9.75,” the voice thru the speaker called.

I couldn’t pull forward because the car in front of me was still waiting on their food. But through all the noise from the cars, I could hear a dog barking. Well, it really wasn’t a dog, it was a human barking like a dog. It sounded like it had rabies. I glanced in my side mirror to find a car waiting in line behind us. There were two guys in the front seat, both laughing. The driver stuck his head out of his window and barked again—at me.

And people ask why I don’t go out much.

T hadn’t even noticed him yet. When he noticed I was looking at him through my mirror, he shouted, “I’ve got a hot dog you can suck on.”

Yep, he’s a sick dog alright. Actually, I don’t want to degrade dogs like that. He was just sick.

I rolled my window up and looked ahead, ignoring his shouts and random spurts of barking. I hoped the car in front of us moved quickly. I wondered if T would say anything about his comment.

Queue in T’s response.

She looked straight at me and asked, “Is that a dog barking?”

I turned to her in disbelief, how had she not been kidnapped yet?

I told her what was happening, she looked in her mirror in disgust. The car in front of us moved and we paid for our order and took it.

We had planned to eat there in the parking lot but after the incident with Cujo, I decided we better go somewhere else. We drove to the closest mall and parked. While we were there eating, T kept mentioning how disgusting they were and how awful it was to do that. I agreed.

But I was genuinely more worried about the lack of T’s alertness in some situations, namely this one.

I then came up with an amazing idea, I’ll blame my daddy’s mean streak. I had been glancing up in my rear-view mirror ever since we parked, I didn’t want them or anyone else sneaking up on us. No one was there nor had been there ever since we parked.

Knowing this, I shouted, “Oh my gosh, T. They just parked right behind us.”

She almost dropped her burger! She thrashed around trying to find them in her side mirror. I was laughing too hard to hide it anymore. She looked over at me, stunned that I’d tricked her like that. I don’t know why; we’ve been friends for years.

​Stay alert T, stay alert. 

If you went to a public school, you know all too well that everyone is expected to fall into a ‘click’. A click would basically be your family for the remainder of your school year. If you change said ‘click’, your life would probably be a lot harder from that point on. That’s just me looking in from the outside though, I never had a click or fell into one. If I had to say I was part of a click, it would probably be the outcast one.

That being said, there were different types. You had your jocks, preps, emo, redneck, and I’m sure there’s more. One school year, the kids in my school basically (I think) just lost their minds. Each click had a beef with another, sometime during the school year. I don’t know why. But most beefs were settled in a matter of days or weeks.

One in particular beef that stands out in my mind that year, was the beef between the rednecks and the emo’s (they were also called skater boys). In an amazing turn of events, I know why this beef was started because I was there when it happened.

I was walking down the hallway towards the cafeteria (notice the trend?) when I noticed a group of skater boys hanging out around the doorway of the cafeteria. They weren’t messing with anyone or being disruptive, they were just hanging out talking to each other. Then a couple of guys from the redneck group, donned in their camo and Carhartt attire, walked out of the cafeteria. Now, I’m not sure if something happened before this or if the guy just wanted to be a brute (disclaimer: I’m not saying all rednecks are brutes, I happen to know and love several.) But this guy walked right up to one of the tiniest skater boys they had, picked him up by the neck, and body slammed him into the tile floor. My mouth flew open in response. The guy walked away laughing while the poor kid gathered himself with the help of his friends.

School is rough. I hated it.

Needless to say, that unleashed an all-out war between the rednecks and the skater boys. It affected everyone involved in those clicks, even if they hadn’t been at the cafeteria that day. Each group had at least a few guys that got jumped, several fights broke out all over school for the next few weeks. Senseless.

I (as you may have guessed) didn’t involve myself, for a number of reasons. I had friends from both clicks, I didn’t want anyone getting jumped or hurt. So, I waited and hoped for it all to die down soon, before someone really got hurt.

That year, during first period I was a teacher’s aide. Basically, I did chores for the teacher during that time. One of those responsibilities was to take the morning ‘roll’ up to the front office. Like any other morning, I gathered the names of all the students that had bothered to show up for class and readied them to go to the front office. The classroom was located in the basement, there were only a few classrooms down there, so it was pretty much deserted at times.

The bell rang at 8am, the roll was taken by 8:02am, and I stepped out of the door with it, no later than 8:05am. When I stepped out the door, I was staring at the paperwork I had to turn in. I heard the door lock behind me when I shut it. You see, during these times, school shootings and bomb threats were a major worry and most doors locked from the inside after they were shut. The only way you got back in was to knock and hope someone heard you.

Someone’s voice caught my attention seconds after I heard the lock fall into place. Which confused me, no one should be down here because it’s after 8am and classes had started. I looked up to see the school resource officer standing in front of me.

“You stay right there,” he told me.

I felt one of my eyebrows raise. Before I could stop my facial expressions, I had already given him the ‘is there a problem?’ look. No need to answer, I figured it out for myself. I looked to the right, where I would be exiting to go to the staircase. There, a group of rednecks stood, blocking the entrance. They were puffed up like something had offended them, pointing, and threating the other end of the hallway. I turned to my left to see a group of skater boys, doing the exact same thing. They were also blocking the only other exit in the place.

Are you serious? 8am. 8am is when you decide to do this?

The resource officer pointed to both groups, turning his back to me.

“Now I’m telling you guys, break it up right now.”

What are you going to do, I thought? Suspend them? Each group had at least ten boys. This was going to be a massacre, and we were right in the middle of it. I pressed myself up against the door. Reaching behind me, I jiggled the door handle, only to remember that it was locked.

I didn’t think I could hate school more than I already did.

“I’m gonna kick you into the dirt,” someone shouted.

Never thought I’d go out like this.

“I said cool it you guys,” the officer warned.

I rapped on the door with my knuckles the best I could. Let me in, let me in, let me in! No one heard it.

“You started this,” someone from the redneck group yelled.

Well, actually sir, you did. Thought it, didn’t say it.

The officers radio blared something, he reached up and rested his hand on it. I could never tell what they were saying on those things.

“Let’s finish this.”

“Everyone just stay where you’re at,” the officer said, resting his hand on his weapon.

I’m kicking the door like a mule now.

Then, to my relief, there was a rush of teachers that flooded the hallway from the right stairwell. They along with the principal, started escorting the first group upstairs with them. Several teachers passed by us to escort the second group up the stairs. The principal made his way to the officer.

“We got here as quick as we could,” the principal said.

Ah, that’s what came through the radio. The principal glanced down at me. If it tells you anything, I was so known for not getting involved in fights, he didn’t even question why I was there.

I’m sure my pale white—ghostly complexion, mixed with bulging eyes, crumpled attendance sheet, and a permanent body indentation on the door behind me, spoke volumes.

Glad you’re here sir, could you take this roll up to the office with you? I’m leaving.

​AND THEY STILL DIDN’T OPEN THE DOOR!

​In middle school, we had something called Earth Day. It was kind of like Field Day, where you stayed outside all day. During Earth Day however, you learned different things about the world. This geek loved it. There were different stations where you could learn different things. There was a station about the different types of soil, another station about different types of rocks, a station about bee’s, and more.

But that year, the number one thing to do, was ride the got air balloon. It was a tethered ride, but to all of us middle schoolers, it was the best thing ever.

I was standing in line with a few of my friends, waiting to get into the basket of this hot air balloon. We waited for a long time. I watched as time after time, people floated up for a bit and then came back down.

Now, you have to understand that, it was a different place when I was in school. You could do stuff like this without people freaking out about safety regulations. Heck, when I was younger, we had that metal slide in kindergarten that was a story tall. You slid down this metal slide that was hotter than the sun time and time again. No one worried that you’d get hurt. If you did fall off, it was no one’s fault but yours. And IF we fell off, we just walked it off.

This was the same kind of thing. If the rope broke and you floated away, well, you got in line for it.

Good times, good times.

There was one last group loading up, then it was our turn. I remember there was this guy in charge of it and all he would tell people that asked about the ride was, ‘As long as the weather permits, we will keep doing it.’ I had no idea what that meant unless he was talking about rain. I could see that. I just kept thinking; my parents would freak if they knew.
The basket held about 4 students and the guy that flew the balloon. I watched as they all piled in and the guy pulled the lever that shot flames into the top.

When I got in line, I was so excited for this ride, that I had made my mind up. Nothing was going to stop me from riding this thing.

Before the balloon could leave the ground a gust of wind whipped through. I watched as this huge hot air balloon was caught in this gust of wind and was thrust sideways, toppling over to the ground. The balloon itself crashed forcefully tipping the basket over, tossing people out. There were several screams from those inside. The fabric of the balloon seemed to melt into the ground when it collapsed.

I stood corrected. There were a few things that could stop me from riding.

People from all over the place rushed over to help. Somehow, they got the balloon upright and floating again. No one was hurt. I assumed they’d stop the ride right then. It was just to dangerous to fly this thing. I was wrong.
To my surprise, the man who oversaw the line looked at me and said, “You’re up. Let’s go.”

Sir, did that balloon hit you when it crashed down?

But as I said, those were different times. To my own surprise, I ACTUALLY GOT ON and I LOVED IT.

When I got home, I told my parents what had happened. As I laid out this vivid recreation of my day, I can only explain my parent’s expressions as blank. It was the kind of parent expression that hid what they were really thinking as I talked. Deep down they were probably screaming inside but remained calm on the outside. When I finished, my fathers only response was a flat, “Huh.”

My mother, blessed the woman, looked straight at me and said, “Well, I’m glad you had fun.”

What she meant was, ‘Well, I’m glad you didn’t die.’

​The most important thing I learned about Earth that day, was that Mother Nature does what she wants. You’re just going along for the ride.