“No such thing as being too careful.”
That became my high school motto, when I worked to be sure I was never busted with booze or weed.
But in seventh grade, I sit alone pondering Steve’s warning. How could I stall an adult walking in the auditorium without making it obvious someone was messing with them?
If we got caught, we probably wouldn’t get detention. But our parents would get a phone call. Strangely, I knew the old man wouldn’t be upset……..as long as I wasn’t ‘queer,’ he was happy. But Alison would be humiliated. And our trysts would be over. Life was dangerous.
I started with the light panel: very small bits of clear tape at the lower two corners, just enough to gain a few seconds. Then I stole the old man’s precious duct tape (his solution for any problem, except maybe an amputated finger). I packed it into the outside door latch, so it could open almost soundlessly. Next, the hall door behind the stage. The odds of either being discovered was poor; I was confident anyone who saw it would think the janitor rigged it purposely.
Finally, in a ballsy maneuver (well, for 7th grade), I searched janitors’ closets (always unlocked), found an old broom and smuggled it down to seal off two doors by the handles (a la Dustin Hoffman in ‘The Graduate’) in case of a real emergency. I still remember listening carefully as I slipped down the elementary school stairwell, then across the alley, to our vestibule.
Finally, I closed the front stage curtains as well as the long curtains behind the stage. The point was to make sure nothing looked out of place. No suspicion. And we hopefully had protection.
Of course, Alison was nonplussed–“You didn’t have to do that. These fools never leave their offices. We could piss on the floor and it would take weeks for them to discover it.” She pauses, then smiles. “But it’s sweet of you to go to the trouble.”
Aw, shucks.