We were posting stories on another messageboard & I figured Dopers have some good ones to share.
Here’s my story:
Our sixth grade class had a really fun approach to history - we’d delve into whatever period we studied, doing projects, creating artifacts, going to museums, writing reports and making presentations.
Of course we studied the Romans.
On one particular day it was my turn to give a speech on some aspect or another of Roman culture. And, in keeping with our “immersion” approach, I was to give this speech in period dress.
Roman - costume - simple, right? Take a sheet, start orating. No sweat.
Well, on the night before, my Mom helped me with my costume - she draped and fussed and pinned. Eventually it hung on me in a somewhat authoritative manner and I was satisfied that the next day would be a snap.
Now, remember, this was before the Internet, when research meant going to the library. Since I’d waited until the last minute there was no time for a library run, so we did our draping without any visual aids. It didn’t occur to either of us that your typical Roman wore a shirt under their sheet.
Nor did we consider that I, working alone, wouldn’t be able to achieve the same draping effect that my Mother had.
Thus I ended up spending the greater part of the following afternoon standing in front of the mirror in the Girls’ bathroom in my underwear, draping and re-draping, pinning and re-pinning. The effect got worse and worse as my hands grew sweaty and grimy. Mr. Van Vorhees, our teacher, kept switching the running order for presenters until, finally, his last emissary informed me I was the only person left.
I gathered up my folds and, by taking tiny steps, managed to get to the front of the classroom where I made my speech. It was well received.
But as I finished, I realized that gravity was not my friend and some of my folds had flopped. If I moved at all, vast swatches of my backside and at least one budding boobie would be revealed to all 22 of my 6th grade classmates, not to mention Mr. Van.
I spotted a chair to my immediate right and managed to slither into it, as the class watched quietly.
Now what?
Well, luckily our school’s floors were linoleum and pretty slick. Clutching what was left of my costume, and keeping my back to the wall, I propelled myself out of the room with my feet. Twenty-three heads turned to watch as I slid past the rows of desks, around the corner, and out the door.
No one said a word.