The Slow Getaway Vehicle
Those last few minutes felt like hours as I held myself from bouncing on my chair from impatience. The teacher droned on, no doubt barely hanging on himself as he attempted to fill in the minutes before the school bell rang, signally the end of the last class for the day. That wall clock must have been spelled with some sort of time slowing juju because 2pm just wouldn’t hit!
But inevitably, like death and taxes, it got there. No one lingered one extra second! My friends and I jumped up and ran out of the school gates like we were escaping Alcatraz. A bit dramatic, but that’s how it felt to our 11/12 year old selves. But there was one more step to that escape - the wait in the parking lot opposite the school gates…because our parents/guardians had our getaway vehicles! But I was in a worse position than the friends I broke out with.
My mum was always, usually, invariably, late.
As my friends and I settled under a large tree to avoid scorching ourselves in the hot afternoon sun, I tried to convince myself that today was the day she would be on time. As we idled away telling stories and playing games, one by one, my friends’ escape plans were brought to fruition as each getaway vehicle arrived to spirit them away. Six hours later (well, two hours later but it sure felt like five), with all my escape mates gone, I had to admit to myself that truly, she was as always, usually, invariably, late again.
I started to play a game with myself to take my mind away from the fact that the parking lot was starting to look like a graveyard, and the gateman at the school entrance was starting to look like he was entertaining jailing me just for the fun of it. I told myself…
“The next five cars will be Mummy”.
When it turned out it wasn’t in fact Mummy, I’d switch it up.
“The third white car will be Mummy”. If that didn’t work, then…
“The first car in the next 10 minutes will be Mummy”
On hindsight, this seems like a pathetic game, one designed to make me feel like I had some semblance of control for when that rickety white Mercedes would arrive and complete my escape plans. Of course, I had no control, but that illusion worked enough for me to not descend into a pit of panic daily.
Anyway, even though the arrival of the escape vehicle never quite synced up to my game, arrive it did and I’d promptly forget about my impending depression and jump into the vehicle in happy relief!
Let me tell you, the day I finally got old enough to handle this final leg of escape by myself at the ripe old age of 14 was probably one of the happiest days of my life!