Hello, blog-lovelies. I’m back at school for second term, and, plunged immediately back into a routine of stress, effort and early mornings, I feel better and happier than I did for the last three rather wasted days of the holidays. I’m very aware that by tomorrow I’ll probably be wondering how I was so perky about it, but I’m going to enjoy the good mood while it lasts.
Enough serious business talk, now. I’ve just finished studying for a maths test tomorrow, and I am pumped to do something fun. So I bring to you an almost-verbatim 99.9% hyperbole-free account of a conversation that took place on the bus this afternoon. I think I need theme music for every time I blog about a bus-related incident, don’t you? Anyway, it went down like this…
Sam is experiencing period pain (forgive the TMI!), and is rather cranky. Her angsty mood is not improved by the fact that she is standing up in a bus filled with surly, teenage lads who avoid her eyes in order to avoid giving her a seat. Also, said bus is rocketing along a highway, swerving and braking as the driver clearly endeavours to set new speed bus-driving records on Sydney’s roads. Oh, and standing next to her, being typically annoying, is stalker-girl, as seen in posts such as “The Interrogation”. Basically, at this point in the afternoon, Sam’s life is an absolute party.
Because she is an angsty, PMSing teenage girl, she does what any self-respecting angsty, PMSing teenage girl would do, and tries to blame everything from the person stepping on her foot to the colour of the car adjacent to her position in the bus for the things going wrong in the world. She also makes several loud, prompting remarks about how it would be lovely if someone gave up their seat, but apparently hordes of year seven boys are incredibly deaf or incredibly rude. Given that Sam has the loudest voice of anyone she knows, she’s willing to bet on the latter.
One of her complaints falls on her school uniform, which roughly resembles a potato sack with the added detriments of a stiff, starched collar, windpipe-constricting tie and stockings that seem determined, regardless of how high one hitches them up, to ride low around the crotch area and cause extreme discomfort when standing in public for twenty minutes with no way in which to discreetly adjust said crotch area. “I wish we could just wear pyjamas to school!” she moans.
Stalker girl perks up with one of her useless replies. “That would probably go against the whole uniform code, though.”
Sam’s internal monologue snidely congratulates the girl on her amazing display of wit. Shocking, she thinks, that wearing pyjamas to school might be against the uniform code.
But then, Stalker Girl redeems herself with a brilliant idea. “Or they could have school pyjamas,” she says, unaware of just how brilliant she is at that moment. Sam could have kissed her, but refrains from doing so as it is a public bus, and besides, she doesn’t know or like the girl that much. But school pajamas. What a brilliant alternative to a uniform. But a second opinion is needed, so Sam turns to two year seven boys from another school on the seats next to them. She does not know these boys, nor do they go to her school.
“Hey, do you guys think that school pyjamas would be, like, the greatest thing ever?” she gushes excitedly.
The two boys exchange a glance and pretend to be very interested in the fabric of their pants.
“No, seriously, wouldn’t it?” Sam tries again, trying to imbue her voice with substantial enthusiasm with which to convince the boys to join her cause.
One of the boys turns his head to look at her, cocking it slightly on one side. After a moment’s thought, he opens his mouth. “You’re weird.” he says, with an informed tone, and is silent. Despite her persistence and attempts to explain to the boy just how hurtful that was, Sam can’t get another word out of him for the rest of the trip.
I know. A tragic ending. But clearly, some people can’t appreciate brilliance. If some person I didn’t know who was about four years older than me turned to me on a bus and started talking about a brilliant idea like that, I’d enthusiastically join in. Or at least steal the idea and patent it before they could. Those of you who wear a school uniform, or have experienced the discomfort of a school uniform, or even those who can merely empathise with my pain – do you think schools should have school pyjamas?