Post by EmberRoze on Nov 8, 2008 17:18:53 GMT -6
Think back to a humourous experience. It may have been only amusing, or it may have been wet-your-self-funny as it happened. When retold, the humour is often difficult to get across. It only gets worse when a person doesn’t find a story to be funny until afterwards. I know this from experience. Often, a memory has to just float until the person lets go of the retained negative emotion.
During the summer between being a middle-schooler, and the “best years of my life,” I left the state for the first time without my family. I wasn’t totally up for the trip at the time, so I did what any rational fourteen-year-old would do; I whined, I griped, and I became the queen of hyperbole. Despite my best efforts, I traveled to our nation’s capital, the glorious city of Washington D.C. for four days with a school group. Our single chaperone for this group of future teenagers (or possible renegades), was an eighth grade history teacher, Todd Sheldon. He led only ten of us around Capitol Hill and various other places, but we were unique in our own manner.
I remember leaving the airport terminal from Minneapolis to D.C. As we opened the door to our bus that first time, it felt as through we had to walk through a wall of solidifying molasses. The humidity level was only a tad extreme to us “‘lil’ ol’ Nort Dakotans”. The drastic change of climate took a toll on some people’s tempers after a while. Nothing stopped us that first day, however. Without stopping at the hotel, we leaped straight to the Air and Space Museum, fearlessly taking on the city.
When we finally made it back to the hotel after our driver got lost a few times, myself and my roommates discussed the urge to open the door and feel the rush of coolness rush over our skin. The humidity was getting to us, to make it simple. We were not given a break, however. Opening the door to what was to be our quarters for the next four days, we walked into a literal inferno. A roommate of mine recalls it being hotter than it was outside. The first thing we did before putting our bags down was to find the thermostat, where Alexis turned it as low as it would go.
I was pulling the hotel comforter over me, another one of my roommates, Brianna, decided to tell us a tale of how her aunt discovered that the comforters are rarely washed. Everyone stopped from preparing for what we hoped would be a restful nights sleep. We all were thoroughly disgusted, and with gusto, Alexis and Brianna threw the comforters on the floor. I didn’t think before diving back after it. I’m peculiar in how, even in the depth of summer, I will not sleep with less than two blankets. Come morning, Alexis and I were both thankful for my fast reflexes.
What seemed like minutes after falling asleep, a phone rang shrilly, and as Alexis was the closest to the phone, she poked her head out of a peculiar pile. This pile included the sheets, the two blankets she kept from the night before, the comforter, and myself huddling next to her. All I heard was “What the hell?!” before a rush of cold air came over me. Mind you, I’m not talking air-conditioning cold. I’m talking outside in the middle of winter cold. Thoroughly awake at that point, I could only cry, “Why is it so cold!” in reply.
It may seem weird waking up to such frigid temperatures, but before literally passing out from exhaustion, we forgot to turn the thermostat up. We awoke to be both tired and frozen. Two of my roommates had wanted to shower to warm up, but as I heard through the grapevine, there was a layer of frost in the sink and in the shower from the night before. Needless to say, we all left the room in a considerable hurry, but not before turning the thermostat back up.
Though this memory once frustrated me, I now feel a tugging at the corner of my lips. Indeed, I now find that formerly miserable memory enjoyable. I poke fun at my roommates for their and my own silliness, and I now know to just let some memories settle before daring to recall them to life.
During the summer between being a middle-schooler, and the “best years of my life,” I left the state for the first time without my family. I wasn’t totally up for the trip at the time, so I did what any rational fourteen-year-old would do; I whined, I griped, and I became the queen of hyperbole. Despite my best efforts, I traveled to our nation’s capital, the glorious city of Washington D.C. for four days with a school group. Our single chaperone for this group of future teenagers (or possible renegades), was an eighth grade history teacher, Todd Sheldon. He led only ten of us around Capitol Hill and various other places, but we were unique in our own manner.
I remember leaving the airport terminal from Minneapolis to D.C. As we opened the door to our bus that first time, it felt as through we had to walk through a wall of solidifying molasses. The humidity level was only a tad extreme to us “‘lil’ ol’ Nort Dakotans”. The drastic change of climate took a toll on some people’s tempers after a while. Nothing stopped us that first day, however. Without stopping at the hotel, we leaped straight to the Air and Space Museum, fearlessly taking on the city.
When we finally made it back to the hotel after our driver got lost a few times, myself and my roommates discussed the urge to open the door and feel the rush of coolness rush over our skin. The humidity was getting to us, to make it simple. We were not given a break, however. Opening the door to what was to be our quarters for the next four days, we walked into a literal inferno. A roommate of mine recalls it being hotter than it was outside. The first thing we did before putting our bags down was to find the thermostat, where Alexis turned it as low as it would go.
I was pulling the hotel comforter over me, another one of my roommates, Brianna, decided to tell us a tale of how her aunt discovered that the comforters are rarely washed. Everyone stopped from preparing for what we hoped would be a restful nights sleep. We all were thoroughly disgusted, and with gusto, Alexis and Brianna threw the comforters on the floor. I didn’t think before diving back after it. I’m peculiar in how, even in the depth of summer, I will not sleep with less than two blankets. Come morning, Alexis and I were both thankful for my fast reflexes.
What seemed like minutes after falling asleep, a phone rang shrilly, and as Alexis was the closest to the phone, she poked her head out of a peculiar pile. This pile included the sheets, the two blankets she kept from the night before, the comforter, and myself huddling next to her. All I heard was “What the hell?!” before a rush of cold air came over me. Mind you, I’m not talking air-conditioning cold. I’m talking outside in the middle of winter cold. Thoroughly awake at that point, I could only cry, “Why is it so cold!” in reply.
It may seem weird waking up to such frigid temperatures, but before literally passing out from exhaustion, we forgot to turn the thermostat up. We awoke to be both tired and frozen. Two of my roommates had wanted to shower to warm up, but as I heard through the grapevine, there was a layer of frost in the sink and in the shower from the night before. Needless to say, we all left the room in a considerable hurry, but not before turning the thermostat back up.
Though this memory once frustrated me, I now feel a tugging at the corner of my lips. Indeed, I now find that formerly miserable memory enjoyable. I poke fun at my roommates for their and my own silliness, and I now know to just let some memories settle before daring to recall them to life.