Okay.
So.
Let's talk about this morning.
I was feeling pretty good this morning. It was nice out in a it-rained-last-night-and-everything-is-clean kind of way, and I was wearing gold sunglasses and singing Mika songs to myself, so the week was off to a pretty good start, I'd say. Dad gave me a ride to the Bundesplatz, from where I walked to Starbucks, thinking, "Damn, I look good today, and I'm in a great mood, and things are generally great."
So I'm lost in thoughts (about how awesome and effortlessly cool I am, of course). And then my foot strikes that newly-rained-upon ground and I completely fall over and the things in my bag go everywhere and I am no longer the coolest kid on the block.
So that was embarrassing but it didn't hurt or anything, so I figured it was just another day in the life of Clara. Fair enough.
I manage to get to Starbucks in one piece, somehow, and order my tall sugar free vanilla soy latte and have a great conversation with the Starbucks-woman about how everyone speaks English there.
I hadn't gotten Starbucks in the morning in a while, so I'd sort of forgotten my routine, which includes sitting at Starbucks for five to ten minutes checking facebook and twitter on my phone, essentially killing time so that I could catch the well-timed 8:01 tram.
I forgot that part today; I was probably distracted again by how effortlessly cool I am.
So I'm walking from Starbucks to the tram stop, and I see someone I recognize walking out from behind me up an escalator.
Me: Max?
Max: Hey!
[That was a completely unnecessary Real Conversation]
I hadn't seen Max in ages; not since Kyle's basketball party thing that one time. So I follow him up the escalator and we chat for a bit and I realize how good it is to see him and then we part ways. I get down the escalator again and start walking towards the tram stop, and... I don't even know what happened. Somehow my foot slipped or my hand freaked out or something but I ended up spilling sugar-free-vanilla-soy-latte on myself. Specifically, on my right boob (Matt asked later, naturally).
And it was hot. I yelped. Which I think was the world's way of adding insult to injury.
At that point there was nothing to do but keep going. I'd realized I was on schedule to make the 7:51 tram (the awkwardly-early one under most circumstances), but now I was realizing this wasn't such a bad thing, because maybe I could slip into the bathroom and try to rinse/dry my shirt or something, because I smelled like a combination of coffee and vanilla, and I was wet.
So I go and catch the tram.
About two minutes later, two teachers from my school sit down basically next to me. Here's how the tram chairs work- each "unit" is comprised of two rows of three chairs each, facing each other. So on one side you've got a foursome of chairs, parallel to each other, so that four people could comfortably sit there and have one conversation, and on the other side, there's a pair of chairs facing each other that is probably more suited for intimate tram moments, whatever those may be.
So I'm taking up more space than necessary in a foursome, and these two teachers (Ms R and Ms N? I really should know everyone's names by now) are sitting in the intimate seats. So once I leave my music-coma and realize they're there, I say hi, and then return to the coma. It occurred to me at that point that this tram is probably the faculty-tram, since they have to get to school earlier.
So that's chill.
But wait.
At the next stop, Mr C (of all kinds of fame that I will not even mention because things said on the internet can apparently mess up your life; ask Max) gets on, and of course he wants to talk to his colleagues. So he sits down in my foursome.
I'm at this point bruised, covered in coffee, and sitting next to one of the most hated teachers in my school.
At which point I decided the morning was definitely out of the ordinary in terms of clara-being-awkward. I hope this doesn't become a trend.
Chris got on the tram too (I have no idea why he takes that one; it's obviously the most awkward tram on the planet) and he literally would not sit next to me, because he knew better than to entangle himself in this ridiculous quadrangle of three teachers and myself. He just gave me this look like "Um, did you make some new friends?" and I gave him a look like "Shoot me please?"
He sat down in the foursome in front of mine (which was empty, which Mr C should have been sitting in, which everyone else should have been sitting in) and said good morning.
I was like "Um, no. Not a good morning. SUCH A SHITSHOW MESS OF A MORNING"
I told him the story. I'm pretty sure it didn't surprise him at all.
Love always,
Clara
