As a practice assignment for feature writing, my journalism teacher paired me up with another student to interview and write a piece about a moment or event that she remembered vividly. In return, I also had to share a detailed story of my own for her to write about.
While we searched for a quiet spot to sit and chat, we talked about the kind of story we wanted to tell. I knew I didn't want to tell anything sad or traumatic like our teacher had suggested, I was leaning more towards a funny anecdote with some kind of special significance.
There was one particular story that I couldn't get out of my head. I tried to push it out, not sure if it was a subject I was really ready to touch on or think about--but the more I thought about it, the happier it made me and the more I wanted to share a laugh with my classmate.
I told her the story of my first "outing" with Eddie.
It was the very beginning of our senior year and we weren't really dating yet, just sort of flirting every now and then in Rod's class. I was seventeen and had just started driving myself to school, parking in the student lot, generally rolling up like a badass everyday...but despite how cool I thought I was, I was still generally straight-laced and uptight. There were stricter rules about leaving school that year, and the security guard at the gate would only students with special permission leave. For some reason, I never had any trouble getting out even though I didn't have any legitimate business going off-campus. Usually I would just head out and bring back lunch from someplace nearby. I was so wild.
That day, Eddie and I decided we wanted McDonald's for lunch. I offered to go pick up something for both of us, but I secretly wished we could go together. We knew the security guard wouldn't let us both out, but Eddie followed me out to the parking lot anyway.
"Don't worry, I have an idea," he said.
When we got to my car, he told me to pop the trunk open. I was confused. There was nothing in my trunk...
"I'll get in and hide, and once you pass the gate you can pull into the neighborhood across the street and let me out," he explained.
Wuuuut? I had never heard anything so ridiculously stupid, or so ridiculously exciting. Giddy over how cute and funny he was, I nervously helped him into the trunk of my car and slammed it closed. It wasn't until I started the engine and pulled out of my parking space that I started to panic. What if he couldn't breathe? It was a million degrees out and the sun was beating down on me through the windows. What if he was claustrophobic? What if he passed out from the heat? The 30 seconds it took me to drive to the gate were the longest of my life.
Then, disaster. Instead of opening the gate and waving me on as he usually did, the security guard stopped me--to chat! I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white, and I could feel my nervous giggle welling up inside me. I mumbled something barely comprehensible and waved, hoping the security guard would back away from my car. Finally after what seemed like ages, he stepped back and motioned for me to drive on. I sped across the street into a nearby subdivision and leaped out of the car.
Then I ran back to the driver side door to pop the trunk open.
Eddie pushed the lid open and his face was red from heat and laughter. He asked what had taken so long as he climbed out and walked over to the passenger side. I could barely even respond, I was so relieved. We laughed the entire way to McDonald's (and most of the way back). I looked at Eddie and just liked him so much. He was fun and ridiculous and just what I needed.
Memories like this make me feel so much better. Whatever is going on now, whatever happens next, I was genuinely happy for two and a half years. Eddie helped bring me out of my shell (sometimes kicking and screaming) and helped me break some of my most stubborn habits. Sure, sneaking someone around in the trunk of a car was a stupid, childish thing to do, but the point is that I was relaxed enough to let go and just have fun. Not an easy feat for me at the time. The time we spent together was full of fun, silly things like this (though not necessarily so dangerous) and honestly, sometimes you need a little silly in your life. I certainly do.
I miss that influence of ridiculousness in my life, but I know that I'm better for having once had it. I like to think I'm at the point where I can embrace being silly and ridiculous all by myself.
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