I am a pathetic excuse for a teenager. I mean, the teenage years are supposed to be about rebellion and fun, but I just don’t seem to stray on the wild side of things. One Friday night, I found myself in the perfect example of just how pathetic and lacking rebellion I actually am.

After two months of theater, I soon found myself without a daily activity and a Friday night open. However I didn’t necessarily take advantage of it. I could have tried to find my own smoking hot, Ryan Gosling-esque date––whom I have yet to meet and probably doesn’t exist. However, I instead decided to third wheel on someone else’s date: my parents. To my defense, it was the allure of a Snuffy’s burger––free with coupon––and a malt that lured me into the start of a socially embarrassing situation.

As I entered the 50s style diner, instead of being transported to the world of poodle skirts and leather jackets, I soon found myself in a room full of toys and dentures. I stood there, the middle gap between two generations, taking my role as an awkward bridge between the toddlers and the old people of the room.

Soon I was content while I slurped on a strawberry malt and chomped on a warm juicy cheeseburger. My malt soon proved to be on the humiliating side of the spectrum. I tilted the metal malt cup into my glass, at what I thought to be the perfect angle. But this is why I didn’t take physics: I am awful at the idea of gravity.

The malt slowly began to gain speed until it was an out of control maniac going 100 mph down the metal highway that was the cup. Soon I found strawberries on the inside and outside of the cup which leaked onto my hands. Then by some way-only explained by magic, it ended up entangled in my hair. I had gotten myself into a bit of a sticky situation to say the least. My parents let out another roar of laughter, and I shifted to avoid looking at them.

But as I turned away, I immediately stopped laughing. Three attractive Edina hockey guys walked in, and I believe the correct terminology for them would be “their flow was out of control.” This was my moment, one of these guys could have easily been my attractive Ryan Gosling-esque person. Each had potential, but as I began to try and guess their personalities I remembered a couple of things about myself and the situation. First, my flow at this moment and generally every other moment of my life was and is nothing short of disaster. However, I tried to mop up all the strawberry to try and make myself seem presentable, seeing as the only thing separating the disastrous me and three attractive guys was a foot of plastic covered booth. But as I turned back to my own table a second reason popped into my head; I was there with my parents. My head was turned down with embarrassment and it remained red the rest of the night–the perfect camouflage for the remaining strawberries in my hair.

So this is my warning to all of you: please remember to take precautions in order to avoid social disaster, not become one like I did. Although a malt and burger may seem enticing, do remember that they do not belong on your hands and in hair, so take needed precautions to avoid certain social disasters. But also, know how to laugh at yourself. Although at the time I was petrified, I now look back and find humor in it. As Mr. Backen stated in one of his latest life lessons (known as soapboxes) that the idea of knowing how to laugh at oneself is one of the hardest and best things to do in life. And let’s be honest, he’s Mr. Backen so I have no doubt he’s right. So laugh on my friends, laugh on.