Forced Vacation
It was one of those days that you really didn’t feel like warming up the brain farm.That morning I contemplated inducing a coma so I wouldn’t be faced with the daunting task of school and the main challenge that came with that: Thinking. Pulling on a pair of cargo pats I had enough room to take a CD player with me. I was planning on letting my mind glaze over during class while listening to some music. After as much though as I could muster up in the morning and decided the CD player was too much trouble. I was dating lady luck heavily at the time but had no idea she was going to play a trick on me.
A few minutes later I walk into the school building early. Knowing this I figured I was going to roam the halls or talk. Well, because of my earlyness I got to be first in line to the metal detector/search. Oh joy. I open the door and several vice-principals and a volley of guidance counselors leap happily into action. Seems until punctual arrival they had noone that could have their rights violated in a search. They tear out of the walls and floor like bats out of hell, all leaping into their routine.
"clean out your pockets and step through the metal detector" So I did, I didn’t have anything in my pockets that could be considered a weapon, a drug, or anything resembling anything that someone might not like. Contents of pocket that morning: 1 Pentel RSVP (A top class pen); 2 folded papers with stories on them, unfinished and lint, a suprising lot of it. I was wearing pants that might have been mistaken as army pants by a drunk bum who had been wondering alone underneath the Atlanta highway system. Other than my long hair, I looked about as threatening as a sofa. I’m more colorful than a sofa though. I waltz through the metal detector without worry, having handed my book bag to Mr. Giacobbe. He saw something of interest and proceeded to tear through my belonging in a highly efficient and menacing manner. I had handed it to him self-secure I the knowledge that it was my book bag, and I hadn’t agreed to carry anyone’s pipebombs, and it only smelt like schoolbooks, not any sort of drugs, not unless books have suddenly become controlled substances.
Before the story goes any farther, a bit of my past history must be let out into the opening. Not that its all that interesting, but when you have a chain of events often you will find it as unshakable as Marley’s chains in A Christmas Carol.
I couldn’t drive, so on days I went to the Model UN, I would have to walk home, or any other time my parents were too lazy. I was walking home on one of these days wondering why I was wearing long pants on such a hot day, when my book bag suddenly became much lighter on one side. Upon investigation, I found the strap has tore loose and was flopping grotesquely down at its side. The rest of the journey was a tough one, as I tried different positions for the book bag to see witch one would be the most comfortable. I don’t smoke, in other words: no cigar. Arriving home, I realized the strap was for the most, unrepareable. I still needed something to hold my books so I scavenged up my old backpacking bag from my days in the boy scouts. I opened it up, upended it and gave it a good shake to empty it out. I was pretty sure that it was empty. Please note the use of the phrase: pretty sure.
Back to reality, Giacobbe produced a small pin knife, surely left over from scouting. He handed it to one of the vice-principals, and she started asking the officials around her whether or not it could be considered a weapon. The knife was about as large as my thumb. She seemed somewhat out of the loop, because she asked about 4 times. Yea, I supposed it could be used as a weapon, if I slipped it into someone’s tea and they choked on it. However, the knife was small enough that the person probably would have swallowed it. I’ve seen bigger pills. I was let to go on my way, and I assumed that it would be held to the end of the year or something and frakly I didn’t care. I didn’t know it was in there, so I woulden’t miss it. You do, of course, know what happens when you assume…
I went though 1st period without more that a hitch. Then second rolled around and midway through, I was called out of class to the office. I expected a lecture, maybe my parents would be called but they’d understand. I take the long walk down the green mile (except the walls have been painted white) and arrive in the office and I’m promptly directed to Mrs. Propst office. I walk in, knowing what to expect, I know how these things work, and knowledge is power. She sat at her desk, saying nothing as I entered, letting me stew. That wasn’t going to help if I saw it coming, thinking on my feet (I had not been asked to sit down) I shattered the silence
"yes?" I asked, she sighed and produced the knife that had been found in my book bag.
"What are we going to do about this…" The let that linger in the air, I was sure that was a rhetorical question and that I was about to find out exactly what she was going to do about it…
Less that five minutes later I was officially suspended. The office tends to work quicker than guidance. I was sent to my locker to get my stuff and promptly vacate school property with a black splotch on my record reading "code 38b: knifes cutting and other" Oh great joy. Apparently I’m armed and dangerous, and Didn’t know. My parents understood fully about the knife that was left in my book bag, and was now sitting in a drawer in Mrs. Propst desk, undoubtedly kept company by all the other confiscated cutting tools. Having been suspended for 3 days I enjoyed a relaxing, if not condemning, vacation. What did I learn, Magnum P.I. is a good show, ad I missed watching it when I went back to school.