After an incident today that we shall get to in just a bit, I was reminded of something my old high school friend Holly said to me a couple of years ago. It was during my fifty dates trip, and while sitting in Central Park in NYC, munching on hot dogs and enjoying the view, a bird flew over and pooped on my arm.
"Is it just me, or do things like this happen more to you than to everyone else?" she asked, knowing my penchant for strange luck.
My visit to St. Olaf College today wasn't that bad. I mean, there was no poop at least. But some days I seriously wonder how I make it through the day without hurting myself.
I was at St. Olaf to see Ryana, an awesome girl who used to be in my youth group in Colorado. I met her at the chapel for Sunday morning worship (sidenote: it was awesome!).
Faux pas numero uno: When the time came for the offering, a basket was passed down the aisle. I took it from Ryana's friend next to me and promptly dropped it. Luckily I caught it with my knee before it hit the floor. I was surprised and winced a little, because although it looked like a lightweight wicker basket, turns out it had a WOOD bottom. Warn me about these things, people! The good news is college kids have no money, so despite the fact that it had been passed down a couple of rows before getting to me, there was absolutely nothing in it. Had some kid emptied his pockets of loose change, I would have been mortified.
Faux pas numero dos: Either the pews aren't bolted to the floor or the one in front of me was loose, because when I sat down after a hymn, I wrenched that bad boy right off the tile floor and made a nice, loud thud when I let go. Ryana did the same thing ten minutes later, so I didn't feel so bad. At the time, though, I'm pretty sure her friends were wondering who this freak show was that she'd brought to church.
And faux pas numero tres: The granddaddy of the day, my piece de resistance, if you will, happened while Ryana was showing me around the campus. We were in the science building and walked into the greenhouse. It made me a little sad, because the smell and humidity reminded me of going to the Lincoln Park Conservatory in Chicago with Kevin, which made me think about how far away he was . . . and maybe I just wasn't focused on where I was going, because my leg brushed a hose that was on this hose-holder thingie, and it somehow pressed the trigger against a bar on the holder thingie. Before I even realized what was happening, the entire right leg of my jeans was soaked. And maybe a bit of the left. And somehow my belt buckle. It was pretty obvious.
In a demonstration of what a great kid she is, Ryana continued to walk beside me instead of pretending not to know me. She's pretty awesome.
So that's my exciting story about my day at St. Olaf. I'm going to head for bed now and see if I can avoid drooling toothpaste on myself, flushing an item of clothing down the toilet, or missing the bed when I lay down on it. Lots of hazards could rear their ugly heads at any moment . . .
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