A series of unfortunate events
How a few missteps can lead to one sad Saturday
Everyone has days when it feels Daniel Powter’s “Bad Day” is playing on repeat in the background — I can’t be the only one who still appreciates that song. But even if you don’t share my love of that song, everybody knows what it feels like to have a day in which nothing goes your way.
I had one of these days recently. It began with one of the shelves in my room falling down. Luckily, I was able to catch my belongings before they crashed to the floor, but the delay had me rushing out the door to avoid being late to the football game. In my hurry, I forgot I’d meant to change my shoes, because I thought the ones I was wearing would give me blisters. They did.
I made a half-hour trek across Grounds and my feet could not make it any more. I tried to ask my roommates to bring flip-flops when they arrived later, but Scott Stadium’s terrible cell phone service made all attempts at communication useless. I was on my way to find them, walking around barefoot, when I heard the announcement stating we had to leave because of lightning. I sighed, turned around and walked the opposite direction of the mass exodus to find the people I had been sitting with.
I put my torturous boots back on, limped out of the stadium and started waiting out the storm. I waited for two hours to go back, finally deciding I may as well just go to dinner — still sporting the uncomfortable shoes.
When I was almost back to my apartment, I heard the game was starting back up in a minute. I changed quickly and rushed back out the door toward the stadium. Yet as soon as the sign for Scott Stadium came into view, I realized I had dropped my student ID in my apartment. Alas, amid the cheers of our first touchdown, I realized I was going to have to turn around yet again.
As I began to walk back to my apartment — again — I felt a raindrop. And another. And another. I could have started running, or I could have stopped inside a building to let the storm pass, but I remembered one of my favorite quotes: “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It is about learning how to dance in the rain.”
No, I did not begin dancing alone on the sidewalk of JPA — although I did consider it. I just continued to walk, getting more and more soaked — and then began to laugh. Sure, I may have looked like a raving lunatic, soaking wet and laughing to myself, but I had resolved to let nothing else get me down.
I wish I could say my day turned around and everything from there on out was glorious, but this isn’t a Lifetime movie or feel-good story on the Internet. I had to attempt to weave my way through the mass of people walking home from the game while driving down McCormick, and my already aggravated nerves did not leave me feeling very patient. And I swear that as I was driving through the parking lot of Harris Teeter I saw a stray black cat.
I was at the point when every little thing that happened made me sad, angry or frustrated. I even got sad when I saw a dented orange juice carton in the grocery store. But the day was almost done, and I found myself singing, “Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomorrow.”
The next morning I woke up, and the sun was shining. I was ready to embrace it. And then I got an email telling me that there was irregular activity on my debit card. It turns out someone in London is stealing my money.