Things seem to happen to me the most in the rain, don't they? The last time I did a post about rain, I talked about being mistaken for a prostitute (I think...or at least a runaway), and thist ime...well...see for yourself.
So on Sunday, I was still at Interlochen, to watch the commencement ceremony for the class of 2012. Only problem was, it was pouring rain, and my former high school is not exactly what you would call weatherproof. The pavilion where the graduation ceremony itself was held is under a roof, to be sure, but at Interlochen there are these giant spaces between buildings...also, we were parked in No Man's Land, because we got there fifteen minutes before the ceremony. So, naturally, there was a lot of "running for it." But luckily, just after the ceremony was over, it stopped raining, just long enough to get some pictures.
But after the reception, when Smilelover had to run back to her car before it started storming again, I forgot where we parked. A friend of ours was waiting in the dorm that just so happens to be at the ass-end of campus....and we were at the OTHER ass-end of campus, because as I said, we had to park in No-Man's land. Smilelover ran ahead--she's a good runner; I am not--and I got lost somewhere in the concourse. By that time, it was pouring. I mean really pouring. Thunder, lightening, enough water to drown Noah and everything on his Ark...the whole nine yards. And there I am, standing under the awning of the science building, with a totally unprotected Canon T2i. There was NO WAY I was going out in that. I frantically tried to call Smilelover upwards of 20 times, but my phone was nearly dead already and it died just as I finally managed to reach her. In desperation, I borrowed a plastic grocery bag from a teacher and prepared to run for it.
I ended up calling the dorm from the science building. Smilelover told me to come to TJ, the dorm, and I agreed to meet her there. I made it down the concourse, but of course outside it was still pouring. I stood at the door, trying to gather the courage to run out into that, when lo and behold, Soup Nazi appears, sees my plight, and offers to walk me over to TJ with his umbrella. (No, not the actual Soup Nazi...but this guy is hands down the most wonderful Soup Nazi impersonator I have ever witnessed, so that shall be his nickname for my blog.)
Initially I was exceedingly grateful...and then, he opened his umbrella, and I experienced a sinking feeling in my stomach. Umbrella? More like parasol. It looked like he'd picked from the six-year-old side of the umbrella store. The only way we were both going to get underneath this thing was to cuddle together...so we did, me holding up my long skirt (yes, I KNOW I'm a dumbass for wearing a long skirt when I knew there would be rain) and supporting my camera with one hand, the other arm around his waist, and his very long, very slender arm around my shoulders. On the count of three, we took off, tearing through main campus.
Two problems: 1) The puddles were about half a foot deep...and about half a mile wide. Our campus already sits between two lakes; seemed like a third was forming on our campus. Good thing I was holding up my skirt, because I was ankle-deep in icy water. 2) Remember when I said I wasn't a good runner? Well, turns out Mr. Soup Nazi is. He runs like a freaking gazelle. I, on the other hand, run like a drugged sheepdog. So after half a minute, not only was I staggering like a wino, but his arm had slipped from around my shoulders to around my neck, with his hand sort of dangling down my chest, so he was half-choking me, half-groping me as he skipped through the rain, upright and smiling like he was in a commercial of some sort, while I galumphed behind him feeling like a total idiot.
But oh, wait. It gets even better.
We make it to the hotel/cafeteria, which just happens to connect to the dorm...and where Soup Nazi's parents just so happened to be waiting. Oh, no. Much as I adore this boy, the last thing I wanted at that point in time was to meet anyone's parents. I was rocking the drowned-rat look, complete with a very disgruntled expression in addition to soaked hair and a white skirt that was so damp you could easily see my underwear. But Soup Nazi dragged me over to a couple that HAD to be either his parents or someone exremely closely related to him. I was silently praying for them to be maybe an aunt and uncle...but no such luck. He introduced me to his mother: "Mom, I'd like you to meet Avery...she's VERY special to me." *wink*
Time out here. You see, Soup Nazi is that special kind of Interlochen boy who is not "Gay by May," he's ALREADY gay when he arrives at the 'Lochen...but he will go to his grave insisting that he's straight. I always feel so awful for these boys, because I hate to see anyone be uncomfortable with all of the awesomeness that they are. Moreover I understand that some parents are not as accepting as they should be, and I totally get the need to make your parents happy (believe me, I do!). I would have happily posed as Soup Nazi's girlfriend...if he had asked me to. But I was tricked into it, and totally thrown off, and yes, I have been trained in improv acting, but I was never the best at it and, uh, on top of all that, let's not forget that I'm still a bit disoriented from being dragged through Main Camp by my throat.
At this point, I dearly wanted to take Soup Nazi's little lamp-shade umbrella and put it in a location that a doctor would have to remove it from...but I didn't. I played along. But I didn't make it easy on him. For instance: when he was explaining that I'd graduated the previous year, he blanked on my college name. He did guess that it was in Maryland, lucky for him, but I honestly enjoyed watching him squirm for those few seconds, just the tiniest bit. But the real icing on the cake was at the very end, when I finally managed to impress upon him that my friends were waiting for me, and he said good-bye by hugging me close and saying in an elaborate stage-whisper, I'd kiss you good-bye but my mother is watching us. Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen--he WANTED his mother to hear that.
I wanted to reply, That's okay, I'd kiss YOU good-bye but that would be a little counterproductive, seeing as I'm about to murder you. But I didn't. I sweetly, politely said good-bye to his mom and walked away.
He insisted on walking me to the cafeteria, and just before leaving me there--wait, this requires a bit more explanation. You see, I knew this guy last year, when I was still a student at Interlochen, and he, like half the campus, knew about my feelings for Saxophone Boy and, also like half the campus, was under the impression that Saxophone Boy and I were about to get married and ride off into the sunset. So, his parting shot to me--accompanied by a blown kiss and a wink--was, "Don't worry, I won't mention this to Saxophone Boy." And then he wisely got the hell out of there before I could throw something at him.
And I swear to God I am such a film student, because even as I turned around to walk away, even as I was so annoyed that I was actually considering running along behind him and beating him with his own umbrella, I thought to myself, Someday, this little anecdote is going into one of my screenplays.
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