Seventh Inning Stretch

The day has been an unceasing delight. I mean, how often do you sit in the Pub and watch a high speed car chase with your advisor? (How often, also, does your advisor belittle you in front of your boss? Nay, to your boss? Oh wait, it's the second time it's happened in as many weeks.) From the fresh squeezed orange juice at breakfast, to the breadstick from the Pub at lunch, to the bounty of seafood at dinner, my meals and company today have been great delights (just to clarify, I didn't eat with my advisor, he wasn't a delight, we just watched the car chase together as we waited for our respective lunches).

But all that pales to what happened at dinner. Creeps, Kate the Mate, and I had sat at the edge of a long and mostly empty table. I had gotten up to get some more delicious carbonara and leftover mardi gras shrimp. When I returned, our table was completely full, brimming of underclassmen swimmers we didn't know. Having strangers encroach on your eating space is always a jarring experience, especially when they awkwardly stare at you the whole time, with a faint smile on their lips, as if they'd like to say something but can't quite muster the courage to do so. A little while later, while we were still working through dessert, a huge chunk of the table left, including the boy next to me. In fact, only one boy remained. He sat across from me and Kate the Mate tried to lure him into conversation with us, but he just awkwardly chuckled.

That is, until I tried to make a big point about how much space we had now that everyone had left. I scooched away from Kate the Mate, then pulled back the chair to my right. Fully staring at Creeps and Kate the Mate, for full theatric effect, I reached my right hand out to stretch over the chair next to me, ready to lean back with content-- only to discover that an Awkward Swimming Boy had returned and was settling into the seat I was stretching over. My hand actually hit his leg because he was sitting in so close just when I wanted to spread out. Without a word, or even acknowledgement of my presence, he sat down and resumed talking to his friends. Kate the Mate and Creeps bawled with laughter at my smooth move. Apparently, both of them had seen him approaching but decided not to tell me. V. suave all around. The only thing more painful than my stretching was the Awkard Swimming Boys' behavior. None of them saw the need to not be pressed against our trays once their friends moved, or to slide farther down once they saw us spreading out, or look our way when we started laughing at them. They just kept their eyes and minds focused on eating in their exact spot. Who does that!?