BONGO RECYCLE BINS

It is the last day of school for the calendar year, so all of us (teachers and students alike) feel punchy.  We are a little short on patience and a little long on aggravation.  At this point of the school calendar, it is difficult to tell who is crazier: the staff or our young charges.

So, it is no surprise to me when I let loose a little bit this morning before the school day starts.  One of my coworkers arrives very early, so early, in fact, that by the time I arrive, she has already put away her pocketbook, run to the ladies' room, gotten her mail, and chatted with the secretary in the office. 

Today, however, the inclement weather slows the progress of her commute, and the two of us arrive to work at the same time.  My commute (eight miles) is considerably less than hers (a gazillion miles), so I wait for my coworker in the hallway while she uses the faculty bathroom. 

This is how I come upon the recycle bins.

Directly outside of the women's room are three extra-large garbage receptacles for recycling.  I lean against one, propping myself up as I hum holiday tunes to myself.  After all, in a few hours, I'll be on break.

All of a sudden I jump up and start yelling to my potty-bound pal.  "Hey," I say loudly to be heard through the walls, "guess which Christmas carol this is!"

I place my left hand on the cover of one barrel and place my right on another.  I open the lids and start slamming them back down, over and over again in rhythm: Boom boom be boom, boom boom be boom ... bang bang bang banga-bang bang bang banga-bang bang bang banga-bang banga-bang!

I can hear her voice carrying through the thick wooden door.  "What the HELL are you doing?!"

I smash it out again using the bin lids: Boom boom be boom, boom boom be boom ... bang bang bang banga-bang bang bang banga-bang bang bang banga-bang banga-bang!

There is a long and uncomfortable pause before my coworker starts yelling from the great bathroom beyond.  I can tell from the sound of her voice that she is not amused.  "I ... AM ... TRYING ... TO ... TINKLE!!!!!"

"Nope," I reply, "you're wrong.  It's Carol of the Bells." 

The bathroom door swings open and she glares at me.  "I oughta smack you," she announces, only half-kiddingly.

I smile eagerly.  "Go ahead.  See if I can guess the Christmas carol you're slapping out!"

And that, officer, is the very last thing I remember before all the lights went out and I woke up here in I.C.U.