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Party Crashers

So, everyone in my graduate class had received an e-mail memo that we were all invited to come for dinner at the local pub at 9:00 on Tuesday.
When my friend Brittany and I just so happened to be walking past that very pub at 9 on Tuesday, we looked at one another and decided, "Hey, let's go join up with the gang!" We went inside and immediately saw a table filled with about five of our good friends, plus Kristen, whom we really, openly, don't like. We plopped ourselves down at the only two remaining chairs at their table, but Brittany immediately got back up again and excused herself to the ladies' room. Just after she disappeared, a waiter arrived carrying a cupcake with a single candle inside, which he placed in front of Kristen. I suddenly figured it out.

I nudged Emma, the friend who was sitting just to my right, and asked her discreetly, "This isn't the school thingie, is it?"

She whispered a response that no, it was not; it was Kristen's birthday party. Before I had a chance to discuss matters any further or perhaps deliver a necessary awkward apology, everyone began to sing "Happy Birthday". On the second or third line of the song, Brittany returned from the restroom. Noticing the festivities going on at our table, she put her hands in the air, made the good ol' raise-the-roof gesture, and said loudly, "Oh yeah! Oh yeah! It's yo birthday!" When she sat back down in the seat she had claimed and proceeded to dance around some more, the entire table began to gawk at us, appalled.

It gets worse. At that moment, my phd supervisor (who also happens to have become the biggest crush I have ever had in my entire life), Mr. Bill, walked into the pub with none other than Mr. Joe, the Dean of students himself. The host sat them at the table right next to ours, and that was when I lost it. I cannot justify my actions, though at the very least, I can tell you honestly that they were completely and utterly out of my control. I surrendered to hysterics-to that rare and all-consuming laughter that hits you so hard you can't even breathe. I howled and whooped and gasped to catch my breath, and try as I might, I could not stop. I could feel the redness filling my cheeks and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.
Brittany eyed me curiously and began to grow self-conscious, sensing that something was wrong. "What?" she inquired. I felt bad that she remained in the dark after all this time and, because I couldn't speak, I texted the truth to her.

She looked at me and mouthed the words, "Oh. My. God."

But by this point, I had been looking at Mr. Bill our of the corner of my eye and was growing extremely paranoid, because I feared he might think I was laughing because I was wild about him, which was not entirely untrue. So I did the worst possible thing that any woman in my situation could have done: I texted Mr. Bill!

I texted him: "Brittany and I just accidentally crashed Kristen's birthday party because we thought they were here for the class dinner."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Bill start fumbling nervously in his pants, clearly searching for his phone that had begun vibrating in the middle of his conversation with his boss. He took out the phone, apparently saw the message, then fumbled to put it away again. This is when I stopped laughing, realizing my blunder and suddenly downright mortified.

Emma, ever the smooth one, saved us for a few minutes by pretending nothing strange had happened and simply starting a conversation which included all of us. Kristen ultimately broke it off, whipping out her camera and yelling for Kyle, one of our other friends who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, to take our picture. Brittany and I promptly scooted out of the way, simultaneously not wanting to photobomb after having already crashed her party. When she noticed our withdrawal, Kristen smiled a sweet, bewildered smile and asked us to please join, so we got back in the picture.

In a flash, Mr. Bill leaped out of his seat and was at once standing beside Kyle, pointing his Iphone at us and snapping his own pic of the scene. I felt the redness and the simple grin return to my face. And then Emma shouted: "Mr. Bill! Mr. Bill! Get in the picture!"

I forgot to mention that, while he is my supervisor, he is also all of their professor. They all know him, and they all started shouting, "Get in the picture, Mr. Bill!"

I also failed to mention thus far that Mr. Bill is married. Yes, he's married, and he was at the pub with his boss for some kind of dinner meeting.

He looked around at his students nervously, and settled with hesitance in the only open space at the table- the one right next to me! As everyone wrapped their arms around each other for the grand finale of photos, Mr. Bill mumbled to me, "Uhhh...I need to stay professional here.." and he sat stiffly beside me as the camera flashed in our faces.

And that was my night...and as a token, I now have the picture ON MY FACEBOOK, in which my friend tagged both myself and Mr. Bill.
An Ep User An EP User Feb 5, 2013

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