http://channel.nationalgeographic.com/staticfiles/NGC/StaticFiles/Episodes/Jet-Man/Images/flying-contraptions-3.jpgOn Friday night my sister and I watched the Symphony at the Sydney Opera House. It was a treat. We ate dinner on King Street beforehand and walked in record time to make the 8pm session. When the show finished we were so knackered that we just wanted to go home. We didn't really say anything worth noting. In fact, most of the time we just looked at stuff and made random comments like "My feet rully hurt" or "My hair is crazy itchy, I need a shower" or "That person's wearing pink shoes" and then we'd laugh like we'd just said something incredibly hilarious.
Anyway, the point is, when we changed at Central from Circular Quay to make our way home we were definitely not in the mood or the mindset to hold a genuine, coherent conversation. In particular, small talk and polite chit chat was a no-go.
So when we were greeted with the sight of our old maths teacher (with her hubby in tow) standing all but 2 metres away from us, we recoiled, took a ten million giant steps back in horror. We were too tired, too smelly, too over it to want to have to deal with it. We quickly hatched the perfect plan.
You see, the problem was, that this maths teacher taught both of us in different years, lived in our suburb about 800 metres or so away from our house and didn't really like either of us, because we weren't exactly exemplary maths students. This meant that in order to avoid speaking to her, our plan would need to combine three key factors: speed, timing and super reflexes. She was in the carriage next to ours, so there was no room for error. We needed to be perfect.
As the train pulled up at our stop, my sister and I looked at each other and nodded in unison, our plan ready to be unleashed.
Vrooom! went the train doors.
We sprinted up the three flights and continued the sprint to our car.
"Where is she? Is she behind us???" I gasped lurching down the steep hill that leads to the busstop.
"I dunno, I dunno" huffed my sister from somewhere behind me.
I decided to sneak a peek over my shoulder like those Olympic athletes do when they're leading the pack in the long distance events and they're scoping out their competition. We were virtually in the clear.
But alas, that was to be my downfall. I should've known that someone as athletically challenged as me wouldn't be able to handle simultaneously looking over my shoulder while running like the wind in the dark with inappropriate shoes on.
I got disorientated, stubbed my big toe on an invisible tree root and was airborne for what seemed like an eternity.
God I wish I had wings.
I skidded face down on the concrete and skinned both my hands, my right elbow, my right hip, right knee, right foot and completely destroyed my shoes.
"Did anyone hear? Did she see that?" I hissed to my sister who by that time had caught up with me. All I could think about was old high school maths teacher peering down all school teacherish at me and warning me that running was not allowed in the playground.
"Nah she didn't! Don't worry, who cares if she heard!!" my sister hissed back, as I gripped on to her arm and hobbled across the road. And it was only then that it dawned on me.... Oh yeah, why did I really give a crap, it's been 7 years I finished high school!
And so I went home a miserable, full of regret, bruised and bleeding.
I will never ever run away from my high school maths teacher again.
My trashed shoes:
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