You'll Never Get to Heaven in a Teacher's Car
-----Shortly after the start of my first year at Carson Elementary School, we had a happy hour at a teacher’s home. I wanted to go there, since it was our first, but, I could only stay for a short time, as I had to go to a funeral for a much loved member of my church.
-----The party was your typical house affair. They had a margarita machine out on the patio, but out of respect for Norm, the man who had passed, I opted not to drink anything before the funeral. I left about an hour after the party got started.
-----I have never felt comfortable at funerals. My sister and I were sheltered from death as children. I guess we understood at some level that it happened, but we never experienced it. Children simply did not go to funerals or participate in conversations about the dearly departed in the culture from which my mother came. I can honestly say that at the age of 61, I have still not been to more than a dozen funerals. Believe me, I know a lot more people who have died, but I always seem to weasel out of going to their funerals.
-----Norm’s funeral was amazing. It wasn’t at our church. It wouldn’t have fit. There must have been close to five hundred people in attendance. It seemed that everyone of those people loved Norm and had a story that they wanted to share. One by one, they went to the podium and told a personal antidote that would both warm my heart and make me cry.
-----I was absolutely miserable at that funeral. I had one of those anxiety pops where you suddenly realize that you too will one day die. I was depressed by the fact that I didn’t have 5 friends. Even they would most likely not have anything warm and fuzzy to say about me at my funeral. The pastor would ask if anyone had anything to say, and there would be a sickening awkward silence.
-----I was so sad after the funeral that I decided I would go back to the party to cheer up. I should have just gone home.
-----When I got to the house where the party was happening, things just didn’t seem right. I noticed right away that nobody was wearing the clothing they had been wearing when I left. You can not imagine the thoughts that went through my mind. Had my faculty had some kind of orgy while I was gone? I didn’t really know these people that well yet. I did know that many of them had known each other before coming to the new school.
-----I decided to go out to the patio to get a margarita while I pondered the possibilities of what could be going on. I should have just gone home.
-----As soon as the door closed behind me, I heard the click of the lock. Someone had purposely locked me out of the house. Now, I’m thinking even worse things. Please, excuse my language. I want you to really understand what was going on in my head. "Oh shit! They weren’t expecting me back. They could tell I knew something was up. They’re gonna kill me! I gotta get out of here!"
-----With thoughts of escape and a HUGE surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, I ran in terror to where I thought there would be a gate to the front. Unfortunately, I had chosen the wrong side of the house. I turned around to run the other way, but froze in my tracks when I heard the sound of someone crashing over the privacy fence behind me. One of my fellow teachers shouted, "Stay right there Baker. I got you!" Before I could brace myself for the bullet in the head that I had convinced myself was coming, I had been totally soaked by a garden hose. Evidently, the orgy I had imagined had only been a water fight in the backyard.
-----Instead of feeling relieved, I was pissed! What kind of morons hose each other down at an elementary school happy hour party? How do I explain my wetness to my wife? Why didn’t I stay at my old school where people where… NORMAL!
-----The back door was unlocked when I tried it. I was ready to give those losers an earful. But, there was nobody in the house. It just kept getting stranger and stranger. Suddenly, a man I had never even seen before, came up to me and asked me if I wanted a bl** j**. [I’m sorry, dear readers. I am a bit of a prude myself and really don’t feel comfortable telling this part. I put it as delicately as I could.] I was absolutely horrified, once again. My original orgy thoughts just may have been on target. Then, he suddenly pulled a blow dryer from his back and laughed hysterically.
-----I immediately stormed out of the house only to find that everyone else was in the front yard getting ready to leave. Some of them were pretty far gone. One of the men was covered in lipstick kisses. Once again, I wondered what had happened while I was gone. Another of our male teachers was standing in the street making a violent pumping motion with his fists shouting, "I’m getting some tonight!"
-----I had had enough. I said my goodbyes and left. But, I was too ashamed to go home soaking wet. I was really upset that I had left my old school where I knew everyone and come to this new one with a bunch of CRAZY strangers. I mean… even the principal was in on this. I drove to the Albertsons and went back to the men’s room. I stood there for about twenty minutes using the hand drying machine to dry myself off as much as I could. Fortunately, nobody came in while I was doing it. That would have just been one more indignity.
-----The following Monday, nobody said anything about the party. It was as if it had never happened. At least, nobody said anything that morning. Then, the teacher with all the lipstick kisses opened his email with his computer projected on a screen for his whole class to see. He had not anticipated their seeing drunken photos from the party. He was furious. He ranted and raved and the entire faculty was warned to keep personal photos out of our school email.
-----Unfortunately, the photos of that event were not shared with me. Believe me- had they been, you would be looking at them now!