McKaycee the Cool Girl Drummer has inspired me more than usual tonight.
I’m always inspired by her.
I mean, really…come on…
She is a girl, and she is a drummer.
I have hallucinated myself into being that person before…but she’s one in real life.
In real life.
In real life, she gets to walk up to a drum set, sit down and no one rolls their eyes or laughs.
She doesn’t have to say, “Just kidding” and then get up.
She just walks up to those drums, sits down and plays them.
Right now, my insides are impersonating Herman Munster, clapping with excitement…and I’m just pretending to be Kaycee.
I’ve often daydreamed about being a drummer…and seeing that I am a girl, it is only natural and fitting that I have dreamed of being a girl drummer.
Other fantasies of mine include being:
Someone with a crystal-clear complexion.
Someone who can speak several languages, especially when my dream includes busting out this super power to have it remedy some life or death situation.
Someone who can sing like Kelly Clarkson.
Someone who could win at Trivial Pursuit, but who also has a clear complexion and rocks the house on my drums…
Kaycee has a great complexion, plays the drums…and if she tells us that she has won a game of Trivial Pursuit I will weep at her beauty.
And she has to have won playing against educated adults…winning against kids is not fair, although, I do recommend it, if you don’t stand a chance with adults. Although sickening, it does do something for the ego. I’m sorry, but it does.
So, I read her funny story on her blog about her going into the men’s bathroom.
It brought back one of my all time lows in my life.
You see, I too have done this, but not nearly with the grace of McKaycee the Cool Girl Drummer.
I was on campus once, long, long ago in a far, far away time.
I went into a restroom.
I walk in quickly, with confidence because that’s how I do everything…with gusto.
Really, it was probably because I was running late.
So, I run in and pass this person who is standing at the sink, washing their hands.
I walk straight into the stall.
On the way to the stall, I think to my evil self, after glancing at the person at the sink… “That poor lady…if I looked that much like a man…I would just DIE.”
Yes, I am a sinner in need of a Savior.
That’s really what I thought as I shut myself into the stall.
I was in the stall!
With the door shut!
It took all that time for me to EVEN CONSIDER that the man-looking woman, standing there at the sink could possibly be a real man.
I made it all the way into the stall before it dawned on me that…
Maybe the problem here is NOT that this poor “woman” is excruciatingly masculine…
Maybe the problem here is I’m an IDIOT who is in the WRONG BATHROOM.
It also comes before the fall.
I wanted to fall over dead right there in that man stall.
What an awful way to go.
If you died in the men’s bathroom, think of all the people who would know. And think of all the disgusting stuff you would fall over dead UPON.
Although I wanted to, I did not die.
Instead, I stood there, standing in the corner, peeping through the crack in the stall, trying to see the man-she.
I wanted him to leave.
That’s all I wanted him to do.
Just please leave.
Every time I would glance through the crack, there he was, looking at my stall. That poor man was so confused.
I was just about to scream, out loud (although I’m sure it would have come out in a mere whisper)… “Just please leave.”
Before I had to, he finally decided it was time to move on…to leave me in my man-stall misery.
As soon as he was out the door, I bolted out of the stall and ran for my life out of the bathroom…
All the way to my car.
I skipped my remaining classes that day.
Horrifying. Down right horrifying.
Thanks, McKaycee. I needed to relive that horribly, humiliating experience.