Thoughts For Your Hole by Smith Q. Johns- I Run Crying To The Bathroom

week_16_by_Drew_Anderson

By Drew Anderson

One of the classes I’m taking this quarter is at a high-school and it’s made me realize I’m really out of the loop in some circles, old and young.

I went to the bathroom one night there and in the stall were the entire remnants of a kid’s lunch, including a plate. There was a milk box, some pizza crust, and a Ziploc with potato chip crumbs in it. Is this some kind of a new fad that I don’t know about? Eating on the toilet? Is that the COOOOLLLL thing to do now?

On the other end of the demographic scale something else I found interesting was the retired folks that meet there the same nights I do. For four weeks in a row there have been four classrooms where retired white men sit and talk about softball, but they aren’t talking about professional softball (is there such a thing?) or college softball. Now, I only hear the first forty-five minutes of their meetings as I sit outside and read and wait for class, but that’s all they talk about.

Who knows what they do the rest of the time? But during those forty-five minutes they only talk about their personal experiences playing softball as adults. You know when you see adults playing softball as a hobby and they only have maybe ten people in the stands, all of which are family members that go out of obligation?

Well it appears to me that somehow they started a club for elderly white men to go talk about these moments. They complain, they laugh, they make fun of people and they all seem to love it. It’s a very popular club.

\”All I want is to fit in,” I say as I run crying to the bathroom. Then I sit in a stall eating food and waiting for someone (anyone) to come in and tell me I’m cool or talk to me about the good ol’ days of softball.

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