I woke up at 7 A.M., without fear. I was not late, if anything I was early. Today was my first day of what is commonly referred to as, Late Arrival. For underclassmen, this means that I basically have fifth block off and get to sleep in. I awake, eat breakfast while listening to my Comedy Death-Ray Radio podcast (geek.) and then shower. I get out of the shower and dress by 8:10. My plan is to leave by 8:30, arriving at the school by 8:50 at the latest, giving me plenty of time to get to my first class. If you know anything about student parking, you already see the faultiness in my plan.

I leave my house at 8:32; I lost a little bit of time burning a copy of Contra for a friend. Something I should’ve done the previous night but forgot. By the time I get to the traffic lights by Donna Sheppard, it is 8:41. By this time I realize I am cutting it close, but the dread doesn’t really sink in until 8:45 when I enter the parking lot by the PAC and see that every parking space is full.

I have been described as a single choo-choo train running down a single track oblivious to most of anything that doesn’t directly involve me. Until this point it was unfathomable to me that there wouldn’t be at least one parking space left for me. I waste two minutes circling the lot searching for an open space. Eventually I see a car backing out. Unfortunately, so has someone else. I tell myself to show no mercy. I have a little car that can be mighty swift when it wants to be; I will steal this space. And then, as the original parked car leaves, I see the driver who’s competing against me for the parking space; it’s Blake Burch.

Blake is a good guy. Blake was the first friend I ever made at Legacy; we first met a student council trip in the summer in 2007, before the school even officially opened. Blake is a friend. But at that moment, Blake was in my way.

I see him. He sees me. We stare at each other through our car windows. He’s probably having thoughts similar to mine. And then, I see Blake sigh with defeat and signals to me that the spot is mine.

I drive past Blake, giving him the spot. I can do a lot of things, but I can’t be a jerk to a guy who chose not to be a jerk to me. I leave the PAC parking lot and search for a new spot. I end up parking across from the Texaco. It is now 8:50something. I get out of the car, get my book bag, set my iPod to play Contra, and begin my two minute trek to the PAC, where my first class is located.

I arrive at Mrs. McIntyre’s classroom. All heads turn to me. Mac tells me that I’m late and that I need to get a tardy pass. I have no idea how and where to get a tardy passes. Everyone in the class thinks that I’m trying to be funny and I wish that was the case. I am a choo-choo train, rattling down my track, oblivious to all else.

I head to Mrs. Englert’s office, where I am told tardy passes are given out. Sometimes, the clichés are true; nice guys finish last.