Confessions of a bad day

You know you’re going to have a bad day when you refuse wake up because those warm, comfy sheet are just too heavenly to leave. When you finally do open your eyes, you see flashing red numbers indicating that you are ten minutes behind, and it top it all off it’s a Monday. No one wants to deal with a Monday. It’s like the black plague; you just want to avoid it. So you run out to your car like you’re competing on the Amazing Race, only to discover that the gas dial is at its lowest tick mark, and the glaring yellow light yelling at you to get gas before you’re stranded on the side of the road and at the mercy of triple A.

So you stop at the local gas station, and of course the outside credit card reader is broken, causing you to make human contact with a cashier that has decided to tell you their life story. Even though you try to speed up the process, the cashier holds your card captive and tells you about his girlfriend problems asking for advice. You try to be as polite as possible, but on a Monday morning you have reached a limit. When you calmly explain your time crunch to the man waving your card around in the air, he takes this as offence and begins yelling at you in a different language that just sounds like gibberish to you. So you take your card back and bee line it for the closest Wawa around, now running twenty minutes late.

Finally you are on the road and moving at a respectable pace, when the worst and most terrible thing that can happen happens. A bus pulls out in front of you. The horror is heartbreaking and all you do is bang your fists against your steering wheel in frustration. After fifteen minutes of driving at a speed that would bore your grandmother, the roadway gods smile down on you and the cheese wagon turns out of your way.

Just when you think your luck is turning around, glass shatters in on you and your head cracks against hard and cold. Your face is bleeding and glass is digging into your skin no matter what way you move. Congratulations you have just been smacked by a tractor trailer that is now speeding away from you like they have a fire to put out. The driver doesn’t even stop to see in you are alive. So you do what any logical person would do- you call your dad. You would think that a concerned parent would tell you not to move and they are on their way, but no the conversation you have ends with the words, “just drive to the house.”

So you arrive back at the starting point and the damage you thought was minimal was actually severe, and quite disturbing. But you are not embraced in a hug of comfort by your parent, only told to “Get in the car, I’ll take you to school.” Not an “are you okay?” mentioned by anyone. Thanks guys, I feel the love.

Shaking out your clothes to get rid of the glass is the only thing you can think about at the moment. Who knew glass is like glue sticking to your skin. And once you get to school, only one person takes the time to ask “Why are you covered in glass?” and has the sense that maybe someone that was just in an accident sh

ould be checkered out by a professional. Thank God for teachers, because they seem to have the most common sense in this kind of situations. They the concerned teacher takes you up to see the nurse, worried that your hurt, and the nurse gives you some medication, and says that, “If you feel worse come back.” Come back? I may not make it back. So you trudge back down to your homeroom and the concerned teacher who is looking out for you is shocked to see you standing in front of her. And it is only by her determination that you are able to get the medical attention that you need. But my bad day doesn’t end here.

My parents are called and I’m picked up. The nurse highly recommends that I see a doctor immediately because I may have a concussion. So, my father rides around in the car and does his meaningless errands, while I’m passed out in the passenger seat. One would think that your passed out child would be of concern, not feeding the horses, right?

The last stop of the day is the ER and you want nothing to do but vomit and take your head off so the pain will stop. These symptoms are rewarded with a CT scan and X-Ray, which determines that you indeed have a severe concussion. You knew, right?
So when you are sulking in your room because you received a B on your AP Chemistry test, just remember there are worst things in the world.