The dangers of being a writer

A friend was describing today the way overnight field trips at her daughter’s middle school are run: after the kids are settled in their hotel rooms, the doors get taped shut–not so that they can’t be opened in an emergency, but so the adults running the trip will know if anyone has tried to get in–or out. (Any kid who breaks the tape and leaves the room is sent home immediately.) And I found myself instinctively responding in three different ways.

Kid-me: That’s creepy. And not fair. And– (Rolls eyes) Seriously, are you even trying to trust us?

Adult-me: There’s a tradeoff among safety, freedom, and trust going on here. I see why they’re doing this, and part of me is okay with it, but part of me is uneasy and not quite sure this is the best solution here.

Writer-me: This is, like, a challenge, right? Because you know, I bet I could crack this thing. I need to find out what sort of tape they use first, yeah, but if I could do that, and bring it with me …

It’s often Writer-me who gets me in trouble.

Writer-me: Okay, they probably won’t tell me about the tape if I call. But what if I found a parent who’s been on a trip with them before, and remembers? Or maybe I could bring just a whole bunch of different kinds of tape with me. Then I still need to figure out how to get the door closed and taped from the inside afterwards, but … yeah. I bet I can crack this thing …

If I ever get arrested, I’m sure it will be Writer-me’s fault.