Being a private school alum myself, I was willing to cut this group of plaid-skirted, North Faced queens some slack as all SIX of them attempted to squeeze in the 2 top next to me. If you’re aware of this seating arrangement, you’ve probably figured out there were 3 sitting on the booth next to me with 2 of them eating off their laps aka my coat and 3 more on the other side of the table meant for two people. 2 others were in chairs and was one kneeling on the ground because despite their whispering and loud suggestions that my feet don’t require their own chair for resting, I was not giving up my stool. The downfalls of yuppy town were becoming quickly apparent to me. Starting with the stupid decision to let private schools in the area release their annoying youth on the public for lunch breaks. Private school girls are related for life…much like sorority sisters or prison inmates, I was stuck with them, both figuratively and physically as I was now sandwiched between the wall and broad back who was sitting on my lap at this point. I don’t know if I was more annoyed that I am a whole decade older than these hoes and they drive a better car than me or the fact that they purposely made their ponies messy when I have to check my bangs every time the wind blows to make sure they didn’t break off.
I quickly decided this gaggle of Sperry’s and Top Siders was no longer getting slack from me as I simply couldn’t look past my utmost sympathy for their parents who are currently dropping 20 grand a semester for their kid to actually wavier on whether or not scanning and posting a copy of their newly acquired driver’s license to Facebook is a smart idea. I was jolted back to 9th grade when I peered over and caught two of them whispering about me. WE ARE TOUCHING SHOULDERS ASSHOLE, I CAN HEAR YOU! Immediately I wondered if I’d get more time in cing-cing for knocking out a skank with braces…at least my parents only shelled out 5G’s a year for my tuition. I couldn’t even leave if I wanted to. Navigating out of this land mind was like my own personal game of Sliding Block and I was the unfortunate red one with no escape.
I sat angrily texting my BFF hoping she would calm my rage and talk me down from pulling out one of their ponies and running away or ‘accidentally’ dropping 5 tampons on their table so they could be jealous that I got my period before them. In case you didn’t go to private school, starting your period was like getting your tee signed by Bieber. It was a coveted jewel that everyone was in a race to get only to discover what a bitch it was when it finally came. The only plus was that you got a free pass from school that day as if to celebrate the next 50 years of hell and start the unfortunate countdown to when your mom makes you start buying your own and they no longer just magically appear from the tampon fairy under the sink. I think I was more upset when that gravy train stopped than when I found out the truth regarding Santa and the Easter Bunny. At least they still bring me candy, cash and the occasional electronic. When Stacey’s advice was somewhere between standing on the table and sing shouting R-E-S-P-E-C-T and asking to trade rubberbands worn as bracelets. I decided to make a break for it.
I put my utensils on my plate and begin to gather my things when I hear my soon-to-be restraining order ‘victim’ declare to the table that ‘she’s leaving!’ Of course this meant I had to sit there for another 10 minutes to prove my point. After learning these jockstraps are treated to bagels every morning in study hall, I was pissed enough to plow my way out of that cave. I pushed my table out 4 feet in front of me and kindly asked broad back to stop using my dress as her napkin.
Since I like to end all of my gems with a life lesson or thought to ponder, I’ll leave you with this…I will one day be relying on the above-mentioned to pay my social security. My generation is in the hands of these winners…
P.S I can tie a broom handle to a wicker basket and run around throwing balls at people too. You call it lacrosse, I call it a Friday night.