That's about all I remember in Latin, I think.
Friday came early, and I boarded the van to the State Latin competition as a chaperone. We took a chartered bus and two vans, with Brad and I on the cool van (the singers and dramatic interp people). It was a long drive. I think that the bus (which we were following) averaged about 40 miles per hour on I-10, so it took us approx 5 hours to get there. About 3 hours in (the time when we should've been in San Antonio already), we made the executive decision to break the umbilical cord to the bus and stop at McDonalds for a rest stop. There was much rejoicing in the van, and apparently, the bus kids were jealous. Yeah, well that's what you get for not going on the cool van!
When we caught up to the van hours later at Luby's, I thought immediately of Glinda as I poured off the grease from my food. Really, it was gross. First of all, Luby's smells like a combination of pig fat and mothballs. Then there's the food. I ordered salmon with peas and new potatoes. When they scooped out the new potatoes, the man had to put a sieve over them and pour out the butter. By the time I got to my table, the butter had accumulated again which made me wish I had a sieve. Disgusting. But god forbid Cranky ever complain about anything.
[Tangent] I mean, come on! Doesn't anyone else in this world complain? Are we so socialized to put on a nice face all the time that complaining has become evil? I'm sitting at the table with 3 other chaperones, and as I'm pouring fat, lard, butter, oil, etc into an extra bowl, I make the mention that this is disgusting. You would've thought I had insulted all the other chaperone's mothers. They went off on me, in collective fashion. There was the guilty mother type: "You know, you're lucky you get to eat! Some people in starving 3rd world countries don't get the privilege of fat!" There was the asshole type: "Yeah, I was just waiting for you to say something. You hate everything don't you!" And then the sweetheart talks in the royal 1st person type: "Yeah, that's kind of gross, but we should probably not say anything because we wouldn't want to be considered rude, would we?" Yes, we would because the food was freakin nasty! I mean, I wasn't going to go demand that I get my food back. I wasn't going to complain to the person who chose the restaurant. I simply made the comment that the food was disgusting. Simple. True.
And the thing that pisses me off the most is that the sweetheart type says a few minutes later: "Hmmmm this rice is, um, interesting with lots of different, um, flavors" with this twisted up face. The table roars in little giggles: "Oh, [insert name]. you are soooo funny! Is the rice really gross?" Sweetheart says, "Um [giggle] well, I mean it isn't all that bad really but I don't think i'm going to eat it." Translation: This food is disgusting. Now why is it that people can't just say something SUCKS. They have to have this whole other passive agressive language for it!
[back to story] So we finally leave Luby's and make it to San Antonio to the hotel and then to the school for the competition. Brad and I were left on vocal registration duty, which has to be one of the most thankless jobs in the competition. The judges always run late, and we are the ones who have to explain to angry mothers, impatient teachers, and arrogant kids that the world doesn't revolve around them. Truly, I don't think that anyone on the planet is as arrogant and just plain mean as Latin teachers, especially the ones from private schools. It's like they've got something to prove to the world bc they study a dead language and can't use it anywhere but HS. Don't get me wrong. I was a HS teacher, and I know the importance of being a HS teacher (and the thankless job it is), but Latin folk think they should be doing something more important (and can't see the importance of what they do now). Luckily, the Latin teacher at the school I chaperone for does not fall into this category, but her colleagues do.
So we finish that up about 1am, grab the kids and take them for a shopping spree at HEB so that they can fill carts full of things that make their arteries cry: chips, whole tubs of ice cream, energy drinks, mega energy drinks, frappucinos, soda, candy, cookies, cupcakes, etc. This is so that they can stay up all night studying for their exams the next day. It is in the midst of controlling the wild maniacs, when I am told that Brad and I are on overnight duty. Translation: you are going to stay up all night and make sure they study and don't get into trouble. At that point, I joined the ranks and purchased the following: 3 mountain dews, a perrier, a ghiradelli candy bar, sun chips, and a bunch of bananas. It was going to be a long night. We "camped out" in front of the study room (a meeting room in the hotel) with food everywhere and then walked around rooms every half hour. The kids would walk by and say, "I've never seen an adult slumber party before."
We made it through to the next day, when Brad and I got all the kids on the van and drove them straight to starbucks (for me) and then to the school for exams. That was when we had to go look for our work bags which disappeared the night before while we were diligently working at our thankless post. We found them and headed out to bask in the sun in the school courtyard (ah, finally downtime). The downtime didn't last for long bc it was time to bus the kids over to the riverwalk for free time. Now I have to say that the Latin teacher had some ovaries of steel bc I can't imagine trusting 80 kids to go wandering the riverwalk alone. it worked, though.
And the rest is boring except that I got some good Mexican food and some fantabulous pie at Franks in Schulenburg. MMMMMMM! And I saw a zebra and yak running loose in a field on the way home. that was odd.
I feel jetlagged and toxic, but I'm going to try to detox and recover before Glinda's last goodbye at the Volcano. Need lunch now!
Labels: Latin, pie
