We were running late for my then 2 year old's movement class at the community center.
We ran out the door, and I tossed the kid into the car seat. I couldn't wear gloves because you can't secure the car seat with gloves. It takes too long. Better to freeze your hand for a couple minutes than stand in the cold for several.
I slipped around to the driver's side, and flung open the door. I turned my back to the car. In a move carefully choreographed by my physical therapist, I fell backside first into the seat, and scissor-stepped over the ice that had caked under the door of the car.
As my body made contact with the seat, I heard a squeak. What was that? I asked myself. The car seat must be frozen.
I surfed through the snow drifts that had yet to be cleared from our neighborhood streets until I got to the community center parking lot. I got out of the car, grabbing the kid. We skated into the main area of the building to wait for class to start. I took off our coats, hats, and the kid's gloves, and set them on a sofa.
As we walked around the crowded room, I pointed out what was going on. "Oh look! The big kids are playing foosball. Do you want to watch?" In a few minutes, the teacher showed up and let us into the classroom. We took off boots and put on dance shoes. I encouraged kiddo to stand next to the teacher until the rest of the class arrived.
I confidently nodded and smiled at the other parents as I found my seat on the sofa next to the crowded foosball table.
I was ready for some adult conversation. I was about to say hello to one of the mom's when I felt something scratchy on my seat. I was wearing my favorite jeans. These were the only ones that fit me since having the kid so they were soft and comfy, almost like sweatpants.
I reached around to my left side. I felt a slit. I thought I should assess the damage before I blacked out, so I just barely leaned over to follow the length of the tear. I continued to lean farther and farther as my fingers traced the split down to my leg. Then, I backtracked all the way up to the bottom of my pocket.
Oh my God. There was a spit in my pants big enough to put my head through.
Worse, since I was in a rush to get to class, I had traded the pajamas that I had been wearing all day for the sweatpant-like jeans. I had forgotten my underwear.
A woman approached me and said, "I think there is something wrong with your pants."
"I know," I said, cell phone in hand.
I called my friend and whispered, "I just mooned the entire community center, including 10 teenagers, countless adults, and 2 babies."
He howled loud and long. I laughed so hard that I cried.
After class, I put my coat on seated. I walked into the classroom, and helped the kid switch the dance shoes for boots without bending over. I casually mentioned to the teacher, as if I was in on the joke, "I split my pants."
"I know," she said.
I had mooned not only every parent and teenager in the community center, but also twelve 2 year olds and their dance teacher. The humiliation was complete.
After that, the kid switched to circus class in St. Paul.
This story was answer to today's class assignment: tell a story about something that evoked a strong reaction in you. I did work on some fiction, but that's not ready yet.
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