One summer in high school, I went to camp with the other kids from the church my family attended. The week was resplendent with the sort of dullery/drama one might expect on that variety of excursion. There was bickering, snot-slinging, petty disputes and the forest echoed with the pulsating ostinato of bible thumpery. Camp. Ugh. Led by one cheeseball youth director who still owes someone in my clan money, no less. *aherm*
One day Susan left her contact lenses on the edge of a sink in the girls' bunkhouse. Now, I had no idea they were there, didn't see them, etc. Somehow those contact lenses got washed down the sink. Fingers were pointed, mostly at me, as I sat there blinking, wide-eyed and innocent. Believe it or not-- I didn't know what contact lenses were, let alone know to watch out not to wash the colorless blending-in-with-the-blasted-water-in-the-sink teeny weeny plastic things down the drain.
Yes, I felt a little hostile at the readiness of everyone to believe a) _I_ was the one who flushed the contact lenses down the sink and that b) I had done so intentionally. A church camp retreat is supposed to be all sweetness and light, right? I felt very judged. Why wasn't anyone asking her why she'd be so careless with something she was going to stick on her blasted eyeballs? Where was her responsibility in all of this? Am I my sisters' lenskeeper? Au contraire, bitches.
Anyway-- my reputation was sealed: I was a Bad Girl. Again-- no bloody tossing idea, but I was to blame. Fine. Whatever.
Fun activity of the day? A blind trust walk. For those of you fortunate enough to not know what this is, a BTW is where one person is blindfolded and the other person has to give them verbal guidance to navigate the great outdoors or whatever. Apparently some brain trust thought it would be a healing thing for me and Susan to partner up for this activity. *sigh* Blindfolds went on half the kids, and the guide buddies fanned their charges out from the central huddle area, threading through the dense pines with their scratchy needles in the oppressive August heat.
Everyone was sort of walking around trees and mostly trying to avoid head-on collisions of blind-folded people. Susan was first to don the old bandana, and I thought I would give a different experience.
The pier stretched catlike over the lake, its broad planks beckoning out over the water... Interesting... very interesting... Hmmm...
Susan needed to walk out onto the pier, to feel the cool breeze skimming off the lake. Our blind trust walk would be special. Oh, yes. Yes.
I swear I had NO intention of anything bad happening. I know you don't believe me. No one ever does. I'm just a little lamb and I mean no harm, and it wasn't my fault what happened.
Susan was halfway out onto the pier and I was following instructions, guiding only with my voice and no touching. She was well-centered on the boards when she stepped from the edge of the lake, but after several yards, she had veered uncomfortably close to the edge of the planks at the right. It was at this instant I realized the error of my choice of playing field, and I acted to get Susan off the pier forthwith. I ordered her to stop and she complied. I instructed her to turn toward my voice which she did. Facing me, I knew she needed to go to her right to the center of the pier, and I said "take a step to your right." To my horror, she lifted her left foot and stepped to the left. SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT! Now realizing she didn't know which foot was which, I quickly recovered and said "no! BIG step to the left!" thinking she'd go to her right this time. Alas, this was the moment she figured out which foot was which and followed my instructions, her left foot in slow motion as her long leg gangled out over the water, her Keds™-shod foot seeking a wooden surface where it would find no purchase, and she fell treelike right into the brackish blue.
No one believed this was an accident as my explanation fell on deaf ears. *sigh* Oh well.
Susan seemed disinclined to continue the exercise, which was convenient, as I now had absolutely no intention of putting on a blindfold myself. Specially not a wet one. Ew.
Somewhere, Susan probably has a blog and heaps scorn upon your humble narrator. Now you, my darlings, know the truth of the tale.
If people are determined to think the very worst of you, you may as well do something to earn it, right? One of these days, I'm going to be really naughty, and then the world won't know what hit it.