I arrive at school today at 7:40, having finished off the last drops of my 6th cup of coffee just seconds before I emerged from the warm fortress that is my blue Volvo. Shortly after I step foot from the car, I am assaulted with the obnoxious whine of the school's fire-alarm.
"A drill at 7:45? How silly," I think to myself, continuing to walk toward the bathroom.
However, I quickly realize that this is not an intentional effort from the school to better equip us in case a real emergency occurs. Rather, I see a large group of football-associated seniors speaking in a blatantly facetious regarding, "how conveinent this drill was," and, "how they are ever so curious about who pulled the fire alarm." I roll my eyes at their feeble effort to escape class as I maintain my pursuit of urination.
As I walk across the quad, I begin to be regularly badgered by the teachers and administration who still remain on the main campus, being told that I must go to the field, despite the fact that I am not currently in a class and will therefore not be accounted for. I mumble icoherently in response, not about to be detered from my goal. However, to my dismay, I realise that the bathroom in the first quad is closed. This seems odd to me, but I nevertheless continue on my voyage. However, shortly before arriving at the bathroom nearest the gym, I am stopped by a teacher, who forcibly escorts me to the field. After standind there for roughly two minutes, not being acknolwedged whatsoever, the announcement is given over the loudspeaker that tells us that we may return to class. I begin swiftly walking to one bathroom, then the next, before realizing that, in the event that a fire alarm sounds, all bathrooms are locked.
I, for one, am greatful that the school takes these necessary precautions in order to ensure our safety. I mean, when I think of fire-hazards, the first things that come to my mind are porcelain, tiles, and the water system in general. After all, the flammibility of things such as wood or paper very seldom proves to be vastly detrimental, am I right? If it were not for the school protecting us from our own naive stupidity, some poor child such as myself would likely, in the event of a fire, end up trapped in a firey death-trap such as this, forced to experience our last solemn moments in the bathroom at Soquel High. Such a pitiful death, although the severity of this possible occurance can not compare to the sheer plausibility of it.
After exhausting nearly all of my urination-related resources, I decide to make one last attempt before resigning to my fate. As I begin to walk toward the public restroom in the nurse's office, I am stopped by the nurse, who allerts me that I am not allowed to use this bathroom unless I am sick. So, after producing a painfully forced imitation of a cough, I arrogantly continue toward the restroom. However, I am stopped once again, "for my own safety."
It is not until another twenty minutes later, at nearly 8:45, that I accept the fact that the school has no intention of opening the restrooms any time soon. I quickly barge my way into the nurse's restroom, where I urinate for a good 45 seconds. After exiting, the nurse attempts to stop me once again, but I continue to walk out of the office, uninfected.
So, I ask you, should it really be this difficult to use the restroom?