Dirty Tricks.

The Vietnamese delegate is on to me.

No one likes to sit in the 3rd row seats, especially in the Caucasian-NCA’s Durango, and the Romanian’s Buick They are uncomfortable to anyone with legs, and difficult to get into and out of (the bucket seats in the minivans are a bit awkward to get into, but rather comfortable once you manage to get seated). I have noticed that if I dally just a little when putting my bag in the trunk, tucking straps and setting it just so, I will be the last into the car, and thus able to sit in the middle section of seats, which are not too uncomfortable. The delegate from Vietnam, he knows of my tricks, and this morning tried to use them against me. As I dawdled at the back of the Durango, he unveiled his method of being the last to reach the door. He gave the carpool vehicle a 20-foot berth as he walked from his car on the driver’s side, to the open door on the passenger side, as if he was convinced that the vehicle was not a bulbous blue SUV in park, but something more dangerous, with much pointier teeth.

He remained a full car-length away, standing uncomfortably in the middle of the parking lot, giggling nervously and giving me the “yeah, I know your tricks” look until he was sure that I was going to go in first. Only after I had maneuvered onto the miniature bench seat at the back did he feel it was safe to approach the vehicle, glowing with victory.
“Vietnam!” said the Caucasia-NCA delegate in a chastising tone, “why did you make her sit in the back? She is wearing a skirt.”
“Yes, that is very rude,” the Romanian delegate decreed from the safety and comfort of the front passenger seat. The victorious glow faded from the Vietnamese delegate’s face.

I do not deliberately wear skirts so that I am ineligible to sit in the back, but that is mostly because I hadn’t ever thought of it. I tend to turn to them when it is laundry time and I have run out of pants, and on days that I ride my bike to the carpool, because skirts weigh less and take up less room in a bag than pants, which are both desirable qualities in clothing when you have to schlep it around on your back. Skirts are a last-choice option in most cases, though, because they inevitably result in at least one instance of “So… do you have a job interview today?” or “Hey! PRL has knees! Look at that!” every single time. It gets a little old.

This morning was no different. As I scrambled into the rear seat, the Libyan delegate, who was already perched there, smiled in the manner of one who is about to tell a joke that only they think is funny, and asked “Do you have an interview?”

And thus I spent the ride to work in a pencil skirt with a slit up the front, knees to chest in a tiny back seat, flashing broad stretches of godless heathen thigh at a Muslim man. Carpool: we bring awkwardness to a higher level.