Progymnasmata

The Tragedy of Hesitation

It was a warm spring day; I was a young undergraduate student about to attend a lecture by one of my favorite professors. The class was small and cozy and was comprised of maybe 20 students total. I loved this class. I could listen to this professor perform a filibusterer and keep my interest.

I had been out late the night before, so I was tired. Before arriving to class, I drank a 20oz Coke. Then I bought another one for class.

The three-hour lecture brought great interest, but about half-way through it, I felt a mounting pressure to leave. The soda had worked its way through.

Should I get up? Should I disturb the class? Should I disturb my beloved professor? I felt like Proofrock. I hesitated like Hamlet.

Soon, what was a sense of need transformed into an emergency. I made a ruckus moving chairs; I opened the big door of the classroom. It slammed behind me; I ran down the hallway. I didn't look back.

Like a blind Oedipus, I rushed into the nearest bathroom, driven by a singular need to avoid disaster. In my haste, I disregarded what seemed at the time a minor inconsistency: no urinals.

Into the stall, I rushed. I made it in time. Relief, sweet relief. Then, a creeping panic, an encroaching dread. Had I avoided one tragedy only to walk into a harsher one?

Memories flooded my now clear mind: a strange box on the wall, no urinals. Christ! NO URINALS! I froze like rabbit that's spotted a fox. The place was empty right? I looked down. No feet. Yep, it was empty.

Do I leave? I must leave. But, I'm safe in the stall. My identity is secure. But I can't stay hidden in this illusion much longer. Classes will be over soon. Then, I won't be so alone.

I knew that I had to make a break for it. Hesitating had failed me before. I had to make a mad break for it. Run for my life.

I took a deep breath: "Keep your head down. Never look up." I told myself.

I ran out. Was I seen? I don't know. I never stopped running and I never looked up.