When I got to gym class this morning, I presented with an envelope from my teacher. I knew I didn't do anything wrong, but I didn't know why I'd get anything...so my friend tells me to open it and it says I got 2nd place in the family essay writing contest!...ALL RIGHT! What the heck is that?! I swear, I had no recollection of entering any contest, except the one I entered in 9th grade. I thought the teacher made a mistake, but I didn't see how. I couldn't remember at all what my essay was about or when I wrote it. Then I faintly remembered writing it as an assignment for English. Goody. So there's a little ceremony for the winners next...next week I think. I don't want to go but I suppose I have to. I think at the ceremony I have to read it out loud (it doesn't say that on the paper, but LAST year iI had to do that and I was totally taken by surprise, because some dude was also recording it...it's like a trick, isn't it? How mean) but there's also food...cookies and drinks..which is nice, but i really should avoid such food. It's not good for me, but I'm gonna want to eat one. And it's during 5th period, which is math, and I really shouldn't miss math because it's not really my BEST subject ya know. Ugh.
Anyway, here's my essay (which is not based on my family although I did have to go to a family reuinion in Florida) and you can be the judge.
One Sunday Morning
“Honey, where’s my camera…honey! Camera! Where is it?”
“I’ve already packed it…”
“…and my underwear?”
“Okay, what about my-“
“YES it’s all packed, everything, your camera, your underwear, the kitchen SINK for Christ’s sake, it’s all in there! Now get moving!”
These were the sounds I woke up to on Sunday morning. I could have woken up to birds singing, or the meaningless banter of morning radio, but no, today I was blessed with the sweet melodious sound of my parents at each other’s throats about whether or not my mom packed my dad’s underwear. Well that’s just fabulous!
Of course, I’m being sarcastic. Unlike normal kids who hobbies reside in arts, music, or sports, I’ve taken heart to sarcasm in my spare time (and non-spare time) and while I would usually direct my sarcasm at nothing in particular, today my area of expertise was my family. Don’t get me wrong, I love them and all, it’s just that they’re quite good for a laugh every now and then. My parents never really get mad at each other, but at 7 AM in the morning, who isn’t cranky?
So why were we waking up at 7 AM on a Sunday morning when we would rather not see the sun at any time before noon? We had to catch the 9 ‘o clock plane to Florida for a family reunion. I know, family reunion just screams fantastic! Yeah, I had been looking forward to it for…let’s see, how many months…one…two…oh yeah, NEVER! Never would I look forward to a family reunion. All you do is meet people you haven’t seen in ages and you’re automatically obligated to love, or at least LIKE, because of this special bond they call “family”. And the adults never really want to talk to the kids anyway. They hug you, say a simple, “My, have you grown over the years!” and go off to chat with the elders.
I went next door to wake up my 17 year old brother, Jesse, who you have to whack on the head repeatedly with a blunt object to get him to wake up. Under normal conditions, doing something like that would usually render something unconscious, but this is the opposite for my brother. His alarm clock usually goes off in the morning and I wake up to the obnoxious and endless beeping sound, which is slightly muffled by the wall which separates our rooms. But of course, he’s sleeping as soundly as a baby as the insufferable beeping goes on. I did the only sisterly thing to do by taking his pillow out from under his head and wacking him with it.
“Wuh…wuh! What the heck are you doing? I’m trying to sleep!” said Jesse as he rolled over with a dazed look on his face.
“Oh…OH, you’re trying to sleep? Is that what people do in beds these days? Gosh, I had always assumed they were for some other purpose, your holy highness. But now that I see it, the mattress, the blanket, the pillows, it’s all starting to make sense! Thank you for setting me straight, I am now in debt to your gratitude.”
“Haha, you’re hilarious. So hilarious in fact that…GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” And with that he pushed me out the door while slamming it behind him. Wow, he isn’t usually that cheery.
My parents started lugging all the bags outside to the car as I got dressed and brushed my teeth. My dad was so paranoid about the underwear thing that my mom had to open the luggage and show him the underwear was indeed there. But even then he was still skeptical…
“Are you sure those are mine and not Jesse’s?”
“Yes, honey, this is YOUR underwear, in YOUR luggage labeled with YOUR name! Now get your butt down to that car!” shouted my mom. I half expected her face to be bright red with smoke steaming out of her ears like in cartoons.
When Jesse and I were all ready, our family piled into our ’92 Towncar and headed to the airport. After unsuccessfully circling the parking lot for 20 minutes and then successfully getting a space approximately 5 miles away from our airport terminal, we checked in our luggage and waited at our gate only to find that our flight had been delayed.
“We are sorry to say that Continental flight number 4098 to Tampa, Florida has been delayed for 5 to 8 hours. We are sorry for this inconvenience,” rang the voice of a smiling flight attendant through the speakers. Did I mention how much I love the modern miracle of flight travel? Without it, the term “delayed flight” would not even exist! At this point my dad thought it was an appropriate time to open his mouth again.
“Hey honey, maybe now I can buy some underwear, you know, just to make sure…”
God, how I love my family.