In a way, I almost feel like this isn't something that should be written. Let me say that I didn't find humor in the situation. Quite the contrary, I'm lucky I can still walk. But never mind that. On with the story!
It was a beautiful fall day. Leaves were just starting to turn color, and the wind was just right. My first semester at Bergen Community College was going fairly well. Granted, I didn't meet as many people as I had hoped to, but never mind that. I approached the side entrance, the one next to the smaller cafeteria, the entrance I always take, as it's closest to where I usually park. And so, as I did countless times in the past, I opened the door, in good spirits. About to step through, I noticed a group of girls, one of them from my Introduction to Information Technology course. So, being the nice guy that I am, and being in a good mood, I thought, why not?
Time for a small sub-rant. I hold the door open for a lot of people. Why? One day, in my freshman year of high school, everything was going wrong. Teachers were yelling at me, upper-classmen were harassing me, and so on. On my way to the next class, I trudged up the stairs, and faced the door to the second floor hallway. I was utterly drained, physically and emotionally. I probably pondered wether I could even open this door, which in my depression, seemed immovable.
But I didn't have to.
Little did I know, a girl from my gym class had managed to come up the stairs behind me. I didn't even have 3 seconds to grumble at the door, before she came up behind me, (giving me quite a shock in the process) happily flung the door open, and gave me a warm smile, along with a half-bow and an extended arm, waving along my passage.
Long story medium, that brightened my day. And that's why I hold doors open for folk...just in case they're having a bad day. Who knows? Anyway, back to my day at BCC.
So, I hold the door open, and the gaggle of college girls pass through. I get a couple of thank-you's, and the girl I knew from my class stops next to me and starts shooting the breeze. We're having an interesting conversation, and the whole time, I'm still holding the door open.
Well, along comes this girl with jet-black hair, and hazel eyes that could pierce the mightiest man. Completely unhappy that I'm holding the door open for her as well as others, she starts screaming at the top of her lungs, emblazoning me with every male derogatory label a feminist could dream up. This, quite frankly, frightens the heck out of me, and I let go of the door.
First, I breathe a sigh of relief. I let go of the door, she can now pass on her own will, so she won't yell at me much more, right?
I take one look at the girl through the glass of the window, and suddenly, I'm not feeling so tranquil.
Not only was she extremely P.O.ed that I closed the door on her speech, (an accident on my behalf, but what seemed intentional to her. Then again, this was darned if I did...you know the rest.) but the fact that the girls, who were watching this, quite awed, started bursting out into uproarious laughter, didn't exactly make her any calmer. Hoo-boy.
While I felt bad about what happened, my fear of castration by the hands of this woman, whose bad day turned worse due to my bad luck, made me decide to go investigate weither the school had a back entrance. At a full-speed run.
Just another one of those days...