Since I wrote on the topic of bathrooms last time, I might as well stick to the topic of bathrooms. Not that I liked them (believe me, I liked them as much as I liked being a Bottom Feeder), but they are something that everyone deals with.
Like me and Mark. And me and adolescent-itis. And me and dog poo on my brand new khaki pants. And me and Lamone. And me and my crazy parents. Like me and… well, a lot of things. As a struggling adolescent, I have to deal with a lot of things. This includes showering at Lamone.
One situation that epitomizes the showers at Lamone occurred once my status as a popular kid was reinstated: (the exact opposite of this)
It was also the first time I had taken a shower since coming to boarding school.
I know, I know, it’s gross. Even grosser than the grossest things you can think of, like my pimples or my adolescent-itis. Even grosser than dog poo. But bear with me and stop wondering if maybe you could get my grossness by reading this post. I guarantee this will not happen:
My bed reeked after two months of zero showers. My pimples were growing to the size of the Milky Way Galaxy. My adolescent-itis had already spread so far throughout my body, its size could match 100 rulers put together. So, I decided to take a shower.
Taking a shower at Lamone was much different from taking one at home. For one, I could not run out of my room naked and meander to the shower. If I wanted to get in before the other kids, I had to run. And also, I needed to wear a towel on my waist: For obvious reasons.
I imagined a gunshot and a crowd cheering my name as I stood in the doorway of my room with a towel wrapped around my waist. It was essentially a one-hundred meter dash for me, while other kids were closer to the bathroom and therefore received an unfair advantage. I bent down in the sprinter’s position, stretching my quads and calves, ready to go. The adrenaline rushed through my body. The gunshot went off and…
Okay, I’m just kidding. Although getting into the two showers in our dorm meant for forty students was difficult, it was not as difficult as the Olympic one-hundred meter dash. And I was faster than Mark, so I was not worried.
I got into the shower first with some blistering speed walking that was almost as fast as Apolo Ohno’s speed skating. Mark got trampled by some older students and stood around seventh in line. There were two lines, one for the shower on the left, one for the shower on the right.
My first thought as I entered the shower was fear. I feared the water would be freezing cold and freeze my head to the point where it fell of. I preferred nice warm showers to an ice cube over my body to the freezing water temperatures.
Instead, it was the exact opposite. The water was scalding hot, and I conceded that it would melt my skin in a matter of seconds. That was, until, after some toughing out extreme water temperatures, I found the happy medium.
The water gushed out of the shower, and my second thought led my eyes to the ground I stood on. How many people had peed in the shower before me? How many had brushed their teeth and spat on the ground? I decided to jump up and down to make as little contact with the ground below me as possible.
If one was looking at me while I showered, they would think I was doing jumping jacks, as I scrubbed my face and hopped up and down like a rabbit that badly needed to use the restroom. Or a turtle that was extremely excited about something, so excited that it wouldn’t mind blowing its shell right off.
I soaped and shampooed my entire body, and honestly, it felt great. To be clean. At home, I shower every day. However, at Lamone, I did not because of trepidation of the mysterious showers.
I was almost done when my fears were confirmed.
If you have every been shot by a water gun with freezing cold sink water while taking a shower, you will kind of know what pain I was in.
If you have ever had your towel taken away and had to run after the kid who took it naked in a dormitory hallway, you will kind of know what pain I was in. If you have had both happen to you, you WILL know what pain I went through.
Because that was what happened to me as I prepared to shampoo my hair for the final time before turning off the water. The shampoo was still in my hair when the things listed above happened to me. And I would rather not go in depth into the details. And I’m pretty sure you would rather me not do that either.
What I will tell you is that I learned something from running down a dorm hallway naked, in front of both students and faculty, looking like an idiot who had his brain and every piece of intelligence removed from his body:
Life Lesson #22: Sometimes, you have to do things that require guts. And a LOT of them. When those appear, do not back down. Do those things, without worrying what others think about you. Sometimes you have to face those things, full of confidence, and live life to the fullest: YOLO (you only live once)