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Teenaged Ninja Drama Queens PDF Print E-mail
Written by Deborah Hamlin   
Wednesday, 03 February 2010 20:50

Back when I was in high school, I was an active member of the drama club and loved it.   Imagine me in all of my goofy glory, with a license to act.   That’s like telling Carol Burnett and Lucille Ball to just have fun.

I remember one time in particular when our drama class was traveling to Nuevo Laredo, TX, a for a Drama Meet.
That’s right, a Drama Meet.
Kind of like a Track Meet but with less masculine boys.   Anyway, our drama coach explained that we would be staying in a Hilton Hotel along with all of the other competing schools.

We arrived in Nuevo Laredo late in the afternoon and the first thing we wanted to do was swim in the hotel pool.
Sounded like a good plan at the time.
Too bad the swimsuit I bought was a neon orange and against my tanned skin it looked like saran wrap.   I couldn’t figure what the commotion was about….until I noticed the group of waiters and busboys gathered at the huge patio window watching. Then, once I saw my friend Lanelle tearing across the patio toward me with a towel, well, I put two and two together.

Later that evening as we were all settled in our rooms, our coach went over the rules with us.   Under NO circumstances were we allowed off of our floor.    Anyone caught off said designated floor would be disqualified.   She would be staying in the room directly across from the elevators, as would ALL of the coaches of all the schools, so they would know if anyone tried to leave.

Now, I am no rule breaker.
Okay, I am no rule breaker that gets caught.
Let me try that again….I am no rule breaker that gets caught without a plan.   How’s that?
Anyway, I was sharing my room with three other girls and as the night wore on, one of the girls, Vilma, had to have a soda.   She begged one of us to go with her down the circular hall to the soda machine located in the middle, and eventually, I agreed.

We were dressed in short nighties and thought this would be a simple matter of slipping out down the hall and back before the door could even close behind us.
Boy, were we wrong.

We snuck out of our room and tiptoed quickly down the hall, taking extra care as we passed the coach’s room.   We got there and discovered the soda machine was out of order.
Vilma suggested we sneak down to the next floor, a plan I quickly shot down.

But as it is with teenaged girlfriends, she got me to go along with her.   We stood in front of the elevators, certain that at any moment the door to our coach’s room would open and we would be caught with our finger on the button.   We pressed the button and ran down the circular hall, past our own room, and by the time we made the full circle around, the doors to the elevators were opening and we jumped in.

The doors opened on the next floor below us, and we slipped out like two ninjas in flower printed baby dolls, dashing down the hall and made the trip all the way around before we realized there wasn’t even a soda machine there.   We reached the elevators at top speed, pressed the button on the way past and continued on until we made yet another full circle around.   The doors were opening as we reached it.
Hey, you can’t hit a moving target.
We were brilliant.

That is, until we found that the button Vilma pushed was the DOWN and not the UP.
We went all the way down the lobby.   In our nighties.
The doors opened and an elderly couple got in.
We all did our best to ignore each other.
After we dropped them off on their floor, we stopped on the floor above ours.

Now, we had a system that worked perfectly.   Once the doors would open, we would fly out down the hall, find the Coke machine, and push the elevator button as we run past and catch it on the second go around.
What could go wrong?
Well …..

The doors opened and out we flew, my girlfriend and I, down the hall and there was the Coke machine, all brand new and shiny.
We threw in a couple of coins and kept a watch over our shoulders while Vilma made her selection.
Then the damn thing started to yell at the top of it’s computerized voice.
APPARENTLY, Coke had come up with the talking Coke machine.

We froze in silenced terror as the machine screamed how much money we deposited, THEN what selection was made, THEN thanked us for choosing Coke products.
Every door on the floor opened.
We did our best to become one with the wall, and held our breath.
Do ninjas pray, I wonder?

Anyway, we waited a solid minute and when no one came in our direction, we bolted up the hall, expecting to run into someone any second, when we saw the elevators.
We pushed the button and kept running.   We went all the way around and when we saw the doors open, we jumped in and as we stood there waiting for the doors to close, the coach’s door opened up directly across from us.

We were again frozen like deer caught in headlights.   Half naked deer from another school.
The coach stood there with her back to us while she talked to someone else in the room, and all we could do was wait those agonizing seconds for the doors to close.
The doors began to close and she turned her head just as we ducked out of view.

The doors opened again on our floor and we barreled out of there and just as we came around the corner, our own coach was walking down the hall checking the rooms.
Vilma and I crashed quietly into each other and pulled back until our coach was farther on down the hall.   We turned and ran back the OTHER way, heading her off before she could reach our room.   We knocked on our door quickly and quietly, and as soon as our door opened, we threw ourselves into the room and closed it behind us.

Ten seconds later, the coach knocked on our door for a head count.
Once she was satisfied that we were all accounted for, she left and we breathed a sigh of relief.

Okay, maybe I am a rule-breaker.   Just not a very good one.    And believe me.   Ninjas do pray.

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Mean Dean - 02-04-2010 07:25

:whistle: I read a book entitled "High Speed Math" once, & I seem to recall that putting "two & two together," sure is a lot of fun. And "towels".....they have been the bane of my existance - ever since I discovered bikini's on the beach of my Florida home town. As a young sprout, & an old sprout, this ultimate "cover up," certainly subtracts from a large measure of pleasure. Female Ninja's, called Kunoichi, means 9 + 1. This is the number of orifices in the body of a woman - one more than a man. ;) Kunoichi's were considered extremely dangerous, & the writer ap pears to fill the bill. "Satan" never had a chance, & was "totaled" early. Is there anyone else whose number is up? :woohoo:
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Last Updated on Thursday, 04 February 2010 19:08