Two years ago I took the class Introduction to Physics and Chemistry (IPC) as my science credit. Actually, all freshmen did. It was required. The class was taught by a rapping elderly man and involved a lot of note taking, with minimal experiments. Which was sad, because everyone knows labs are the bomb.com.
They ingrained into our heads from day one that safety is the priority. We were always required to wear the aprons, the goggles, the closed toed shoes. Hair up sleeves rolled back, and brains turned on. All that jazz.
One day, during the course of that year, it was going particularly well for me. I have no idea why. Thinking back, I was a sad little frosh. But this day was good. And even though I usually hated my IPC class since I had no friends, this class was going to be good, too. We were doing a lab. HOORAY!
I completed the lab, and got through the whole class without feeling embarrassed. I left class and walked down the hall, practically glowing. I felt so good. Everyone saw me, and I could tell they understood how a felt. I just oozed awesomeness. I was so cool.
I saw a then-junior walking my way. His family was good friends with mine, so I knew him pretty well. I thought he was kinda cute, so I started strutting my stuff, shaking ma booty. Man, did I look good!
He caught my eye, and said my name. Yeah? I responded, wayyyy to eager. He just pointed to his glasses.
And then I realized that I had walked, nay, strutted the length of Junior Hall with my science goggles still on.