Excuses...

Honorable Mention, Creative Corner
Foot in Mouth Disease, Lauren Sawyer

Excuses…

I spend more time in the library than I really care to admit, and probably more time than is necessary. However, of all my experiences there, one in particular sticks out in my mind as the most unique. Let me explain.

Each desk in the library has a privacy panel on three of its four borders, creating what I like to call, The Isolation Cubicle. Each cubicle faces another cubicle so that, were the panels taken down, students would be face to face with one another while studying. Since social interaction is entirely too distracting for students attempting to study, the isolation cubicle is the perfect solution. However, I found that it can also make for some amazingly awkward moments.

On a particular Tuesday, I had begrudgingly admitted that I was in need of a long, focused, study session and had dutifully sentenced myself to an afternoon in the isolation cubicle. After class I headed to the library, equipped with my computer, my notes, my favorite highlighter, a box of Cheese-Its, and a very large mug of coffee. I had just settled into the luxury of my isolation cubicle when I felt it. A large and heavy shoe kicked hard against my foot under the desk.

“Oh no you don’t,” I thought to myself, realizing that another student had sat down at the desk across from me and was obviously making himself very comfortable.  I mean really, there were 20 other free cubicles that did not share my own personal footspace. I wasn’t about to move. After all, I was there first.

I silently commanded my own two feet, “Hold your ground!” I realize now that a simple brush of the foot would not normally demand such a robust response. However the obnoxious intrusion upon my foot space had struck a nerve. Partially, I think I have my very German grandmother to thank for this outrageous stubborn streak, and partially, I think I really didn’t want to study that afternoon. Regardless of the reason, I felt a challenge had been issued, and I wasn’t about to secede from my territory.

 At first my plan seemed to work. There were a few more brushes which I tacked up to be nothing more than accidental. But I was steadfast. Neither foot moved an inch. Then the situation took a turn for the worse.

As time went on, the occasional accidental brushes steadily turned into a regular rub-tap pattern. It was mid-tap when I had an awful realization. My desk cohort was unaware of my existence.  He had no idea there was another student sharing his study space. He was, in fact, under the impression that he was casually drumming his foot upon the leg of the desk. I felt the color flood my face as it occurred to me that I had misread the situation altogether and had gotten myself stuck in a strange game of footsy with an unidentified stranger.

What a fool I had been, sitting there, "holding my ground," as though in some sort of territory dispute, all the while fooling this stranger into thinking that my foot was part of a desk. Now moving became even less of an option. After all, I had been playing footsy for a good twenty minutes, entirely too long to be considered socially acceptable.

So I was stuck.

The worst part was having absolutely no idea who my mystery footsy partner was. I desperately wanted to sneak a peak but the blasted privacy panels made it nothing short of impossible. I was completely confined to my cubicle of uncertainty. For all I knew I was playing footsy with one of my professors. Life certainly does have its odd moments.

I considered attempting a loud snore and drastic wake-up scene. I considered making a brake for the exit. But all circumstances considered I determined both options to be rather drastic. In the end I had no choice. I had to move my foot. Once the decision has been made there is no going back. I quickly gathered my courage and removed my foot from the footsy zone. I heard a startled gasp as my partner realized his mistake. The next ten seconds were packed with tension. Did we emerge from our isolation cubicles to apologize and make light of the situation. No, absolutely not.  We remained behind the safety of our privacy panels, both hoping the other person would completely ignore the situation. My mystery footsy partner lasted through 10 more minutes of silence before making a rather hasty exit. I followed him a mere five minutes later. After all, I couldn’t study, not after such a dramatic and humiliating experience. I had to go home, get some rest, eat dinner and recuperate…