It's Story Time, Children. Gather Round.

         When I was a freshman in high school I was forced into probably the stupidest and most unsafe situation in my young life. I found myself one Friday night at the movies with my two best friends. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence since we did this just about every weekend. Being only 14 we heavily relied on getting rides from parents to and fro our hangout places. This consisted of being dropped off at the theater and hoping that whoever was coming to pick you up arrived soon after the movie was over so you weren't forced to wait for too long. On this particular occasion my two friends and I somehow found ourselves waiting outside the theater among a rather large group of our classmates. Among this group were some girls and boys who would later get the reputation of being "popular". They were mostly athletes. I did not care for them.

        We were invited to join them for ice cream at a place down the road. Not wanting to go with them I began concocting all manner of excuses to get out of it:

I don't like ice cream. (lie)

I'm not allowed to do anything my parents don't know about. (lie)

I don't have anymore money. (lie)

I'm going to throw up if I go with you. (truth)

       I stood with all eyes on me and was pressured by my two best friends into giving my consent. With no cell phone (I wasn't allowed to get one until I was 16) I was at the mercy of whichever mom was driving. On this night the mom was the mother of a classmate who I will call Gertrude.

         Gertrude's mom was the wife of some rich dude and drove a vehicle of the Ford Expedition/Lincoln Navigator persuasion circa 2002. It was large and resembled the twisted offspring of a Cadillac and an Astro van. I liken her to Regina George's mother from Mean Girls. She was rich, loud and too friendly for my liking. I went to a private school full of high-income families and most mothers fit this description.

          The popular kids started piling into the Expegator. One-by-one filling up every square inch of the vehicle, twisting and contorting their bodies on top of one another to allow more room for others. By the time I actually made it into the car most of the seats were filled by three or four people each. I felt very uncomfortable at the prospect of jumping into this car with all these people who weren't in my immediate social circle, and they could tell I did not want to get in the vehicle. Mostly because I kept telling other people to get in before me. Sometimes, children, you have to do stuff that makes you uncomfortable, and this is the perfect example.

          Putting my butt on the last seat I looked out of the car to see there were still four people needing to get into the car. Fearless, one sat on my left leg, the next on my right, the other two simply dove into the car and landed where they may. I closed the door and we took off. Eighteen people were in the car. Some in the trunk. Some on the floor.  Some practically hanging out the windows. No one wearing a seat belt.

            Looking back this was extremely dangerous. I don't give Mrs. George much credit for being a responsible adult.  My parents can tell you that as a child I was extremely worried about wearing my seat belt to the point that I used to scream at my father to postpone his exit from the driveway until I had put on my seat belt. I was serious about safety. My mind always jumps to the worst possible scenario and in this scenario we were all going to die.

            I can't imagine what the repercussions would have been had something happened when we drove the mile from the movie theater to the ice cream place. I was secretly hoping that a cop would see us and get her in big trouble. We made it to the ice cream place unscathed by danger or the police. Opening my door to freedom I tried my hardest not to have a claustrophobic freak out while the many girls on top of me made their clumsy exit from the Expegator.

            I don't remember how I got home that night. I don't remember if I told my parents or if I thanked Mrs. George for the ride/peril but I do know I won't forget the stupidity of the evening. That was the night when I realized I don't like large groups of people nor do I want to share a tiny space with eighteen of them ever again. The beauty of being an adult, having a cell phone and owning your own car is very apparent to me now. I have the freedom to pick-and-choose with whom I spend my time and where I go. I am thankful for adulthood because high school is every introvert's worst nightmare.