Doing Cocaine in The Boys' Bathroom

my HS quad, the scene of many of my favorite and not-so favorite moments

It is no secret to anyone who knows me that I hate exercise.  I would rather eat a bag of glass than run anywhere, or jump up and down, pedal a bike (okay, maybe leisurely with a soda in my hand) but I, like my "Aunt" Susan, define exercise as, "brisk sitting."

Imagine my horror in high school, finding out there was a three year Physical Education requirement as well as gym clothes, a gymnasium, sweating in public, possibly sweating in front of hot dudes, playing stupid games like lacrosse, and GOD FORBID SWIMMING IN A SWIM SUIT WITH MEMBERS OF THE OPPOSITE SEX.   My high school was sure to make us do it all though, seeing as we had this athletic complex similar to an Olympic Village.

So, the unfortunate fact that Freshman P.E. was unavoidable (yeah, I ran that fucking mile---stupid Presidential Fitness Standards), now I had that under my belt as a sophomore, and planned on not taking P.E. ever again at whatever cost.  

Then, I saw the blessed asterisk that mentioned Dance counted as Physical Education after Freshman P.E. had been completed.  Sweet Baby Jesus, I was saved.  I have never filled in a Scantron bubble more quickly in my life!

Our dance teacher, Mrs. G, was also a Language Arts teacher, particularly mine, so I had no fear going into class, since she was very "theatrical" in everything she did, I was prepared for nothing less.  I am pretty sure she made up everything as she went, and during our Annual Dance Show, I'm pretty positive most of the "choreography" was created either in her head about a week before, or just copied directly from the movie's soundtrack we were dancing too.  The dance shows had themes.  I dressed up as the Penguin from Batman once.  These are blogs for later.

One day after smoking my obligatory bong rip in our parking lot, I was late and rushing into dance class.  Keep in mind this is also the same dance class from my aforementioned mushroom trip, so things were lax, to say the least.  We held class in our school's cafeteria, before the Dance Complex was built.  No, I did not go to a RICH school, I just went to a NEW school.  

We "changed" into our dance clothes in the bathrooms, but the girls' bathroom was obviously too crowded to hold all of us thirty bitches at once.  We had one guy in class, so he never had to wait.  I was late already and said, "fuck it, I'm going in there with Joe and changing."  The girls looked horrified, but everything I did was pretty brazen, so I think at this point they expected my behaviors, and waited eagerly to see the consequences.

I stepped into "the void" and all was well.  Joe had obviously already changed and gone, since the place was empty.  I laughed at all those dumb girls waiting, following the rules.  I had my own bathroom now, stand in line you sheep!

I stepped into the handicapped marked stall, spreading out my contraband, doing a count, re-wrapping it tightly, and then getting my "dance" clothes out.  Before I changed, I decided I had to pee, and sat right down.  What I saw startled the shit out of me.
 Sitting there, on top of the toilet paper dispenser were two perfectly cut lines of cocaine.  How did I know this at fifteen?  Let's just say I moved with a much faster crowd than the rest of the honor students.  I tasted it, and it was confirmed.  I, like an idiot, began to look for a hidden camera, security guard or cop.  This had to be a set-up.  Wait!  Were these Joe's lines?  No way.  Joe had never even SEEN cocaine, I was sure.  

This was obviously a gift from the dance gods, telling me to boogie down.  I rolled up my dollar I used to buy a soda at lunch, quicker than Scarface himself.  Oh!  It was coke alright.  This was probably the most I had done "solo" so far, but being alone of course I was rubbing my gums as I threw on my Nikes.  

Mrs. G was just beginning when I emerged from the boys' bathroom, feeling like Donna Summer.  She immediately balked and then pointed at me.  I think I dripped an entire bucket of sweat in those three seconds.  

She said," Look at Alli!  Genius!  Good job girl, saving time and just going in there when Joe is done.  Why don't the rest of you do that?"  Good job?  Oh man, my eyes were as big as saucers.  Joe took one look at me and knew something was up.  

He asked, "Did you see that white stuff in the bathroom?"

I said, "Nope."

His look said LIAR and my look said SHUT-UP.  And then, we danced.  

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