Thank you Lorca for being a guest on my blog today and entertaining us with your great sense of humor.
Being a brand-new teacher in a tiny rural town had all of its proverbial problems, not the least of which was being recognized as a teacher from the high school everywhere I went. I couldn’t grocery shop or pay a cable bill without bumping into a student. That wasn’t always a bad thing because I liked meeting my students’ families, but from time to time, say, on Underwear Buying Day, it wasn’t always the most comfortable situation I found myself in.
But how much trouble could I get into in the video rental store? (Remember those places where you rented VHS tapes…remember VHS tapes?)
Despite the fact that you could buy live bait from a vending machine outside the town’s only grocery store for those after-hours bait emergencies, I was thrilled to visit the video store for the first time and learn that they had an entire room dedicated to documentaries on the great outdoors. The room was off to the side and was larger than my entire apartment. Even better, it had the word NATURE in giant foam letters at the top of one wall. I beelined it to the documentary room, hoping to find something great to show my students in science class.
And for just a moment, I was dumbstruck by the animal movies in that room. Sure, there were videos with dogs and horses and even what appeared to be oversized wild pigs. But as I stood really looking at the movies, I was horrified to figure out what the people on the covers were DOING with said dogs, horses, and pigs. I looked around and saw too late that the word NATURE was actually spelled with an M for MATURE.
I was in the porno room. Of the town’s only video store. The town’s only CROWDED video store.
It wasn’t bad enough that I couldn’t buy underwear, tampons, or birth control without bumping into a student and his or her parents with the contraband in my cart, but here I was trapped in the porno section of the video store and there were entire hordes of students in the main room. They had parents with them and some of them even had younger siblings by the hand. And here was their new—and apparently sexually psychotic—teacher . Every few minutes a customer would come to the doorway of that room, see me standing at them staring in horror, and do a complete about face to get away from the sick woman standing in front of the All Oral, All the Time titles.
I actually considered calling in a bomb threat on my cell phone and having the store evacuated, but with my luck the police would trace the call and it would be in the papers that I called in a fake bomb threat from the porno section of the video store.
I took even more drastic and hypocritical measures: I dumped the contents of my purse on the floor in the doorway of that room and loudly pretended to be shocked by what I saw, making remarks about “of all the places to drop my things, it HAD to be right here! Tsk tsk!” A few customers helped me gather my things, things that luckily didn’t contain condoms, marijuana, or dead armadillos, and I hightailed it out of there with my students none the wiser. I, however, learned tons from the ordeal, not the least of which is that there are apparently fifty steps to giving a better blow job.