I may be remembering this now from going through old photos of a younger self. Or it may be fever-induced memory from the flu.
I know it’s every school-attending person’s recurring nightmare. But. It really happened.
- I had finals.
- I was naked.
- No one seemed to notice.
I’m terrifically happy no one noticed.
I have a theory about why no one noticed: they were also naked. I believe everyone was too busy looking at the walls, their toes, or their books to notice each other. Much.
The University was a little lax on protocol. I went through the cafeteria line one day, about to dig my spoon into the self-serve cottage cheese when I realized why it was still untouched. Someone had meticulously sculpted ten pounds of cottage cheese into the shape of the Venus of Willendorf. Curly leaf parsley topped the Venus area.
Visual aid. Imagine picture with the V of W in cottage cheese:
This is not exactly digression.
The V of W incident was described to show you exactly how slightly lax the University was. (Or maybe they hired only art students for sous chefs?)
In a surreal move, the professor put the site of our final exam to a student vote. We could take it the next day in our classroom, or three days later at her house on Friday night. It was unanimous. Potluck Final with beer, at the professor’s home.
She gave country directions: take the main highway out-of-town, left at the fork, up the big hill, turn right at the bank of 12 black mailboxes on one long post. Wind down the hill, pull left into the apple orchard.
There were at least 3 banks of 12 black mailboxes at the top of the big hill. After passing the driveway six or seven times, I park in the orchard, stagger up her front stairs with my rapidly cooling macaroni and cheese casserole, nearly tripping over my floor length hippie skirt, my long sleeves catching in the goopy cheese. Drat. I knock. A man opens the door. I recognize him as another professor from a related class. Oh right. We’re combining both classes for the final.
When he steps forward to help me with the casserole, he’s no longer hidden by the door. It’s a good thing he grabs the casserole, because I nearly drop it at an angle that would definitely have burned him…badly.
He’s naked. As in…completely. As in please please please let me be dreaming, or having a psychotic break. I have no desire to see…
I catch my eyeballs before they can drop. I refuse to look below his goatee. He doesn’t seem to notice my discomfort. He turns and casually waddles to the kitchen, his white, blind-bottom-of-the-ocean colored butt cheeks quivering.
I wheel around and go back out the front door. More students are coming up the walk laden with aluminum foil covered shapes, waving cheerfully. I can’t speak. I sit heavily on the stair, hand sideways across my mouth. Unbidden, this thought comes into my mind: two white piglets bouncing up and down!
I giggle, in a panicky sort of way.
I’m having a psychotic break, it has to be. All the people coming up the walk have their clothes on. I have my clothes on. He probably had his clothes on too.
Okay. Fine. Deep breath. It’s just a teeny little break from reality. I can deal with that. Note to self: ignore naked professor and any talking footstools. Take the final. Go home. See if still psychotic in the morning.
Good to go.
I make myself follow the Vegan Pie people into the house.
The Vegan Pie people and I walk into a room full of naked bodies.
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