Monday, May 7, 2012

St. Peter's Hands

If you're like me and grew up going to private school, I'm sure you can remember daily mass and the misery that came with it. For the other young girls and myself, it was the perfect place to get our giggle on. Maybe because making any kind of noise was so forbidden, the moment someone did all hell broke loose. And if someone farted; we were goners. Looking back, everyone seemed to have their own special way of trying to hide their laughter from the nuns. The ones who laughed nasally and honked like geese would try to cover it up by sneezing louder than they were laughing. Ones who had chortles building in the back of their throats began coughing. And then there was me...beet faced and shoulders shaking uncontrollably. A silent laugh, yes, but still dangerous because the moment I had to take a breath I would usually make some kind of inhuman sound that resulted in being separated from the class and forced to sit next to the teacher. "Shh. Saint Peter is watching you," Sister Rosemary would say. God those women were boring. But they made an impression that would last a lifetime. Recently I went to church with two of my girlfriends. We sat in the middle. We were hungover. We looked like we had been run over by a semi truck. Midway through the mass, one of us said something that likely caused the most ridiculous display of immaturity ever to have graced Our Lady of Mount Carmel. I looked over at my friend Moni and she was wearing her sunglasses. Her shoulders were shaking, which could only indicate one thing. And then I felt it. The laughter creeping up from within me. I looked down at my lap and hoped for the best. Too late. Our friend Katie had seen and by then, three grown women managed to have a full on laughing attack for no good reason whatsoever. There we were, the rejects of Catholic school, fighting back tears and completely mortified, but somehow unable to stop. That was of course until Katie looked up at one of the stain glassed windows and said "Saint Peter is giving us the hand." The three of us turned to the window and sure as shit, Saint Peter's hand was outstretched in a way that said "you have got to be kidding me." With that, we filed out.

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