#mr. dan

alright, so when i was in elementary school, we had this cafeteria worker named mr. dan.

he’s a fucking legend.

he lived in a cabin in the woods behind the school (kids used to walk there during recess), he was this big guy with a mustache and consistent sunglasses, and he had this loud voice that, when he tried to project, always sounded like he was just screaming and going off on these kids. he wasn’t though, he was a nice guy.

he never wore pants. always shorts. it could be waist deep snow and we’d still be in shorts. remember that.

anyway, story number one. in fifth grade, i had a lot going on. my grandma has just died, i had barely seen my parents all summer because my mom was working and my dad was simultaneously taking a college course to get his principal’s license, and driving to georgia probably about once a week to take care of my grandma before she died of cancer. also, i was still getting over my best friend of four years leaving me (even though it happened a year before), my dad lost his job, which wasn’t that big of a deal, he just got transferred, but i didn’t know that at 11, and not to mention my lunch table was build of solely abusers and the abused. (guess which side i was on.) it was a rough year for me, but mostly just lunch and recess. so almost every day without fail, i’d walk up to mr. dan and ask him if i could go to the restroom. it was my break from them, the kids at my table. and in there, i’d just process for five minutes. sometimes, i’d cry, but most times, i’d just sit, and stare at a wall, not wanting to go back.

so yeah. almost every day without fail, bathroom time.

i’d just walk up to mr. dan and say ‘can i go to the bathroom’ and he’d simply say yes and i’d leave.

not this day, though.

‘can i go to the bathroom?’

‘read this’

he handed me a paper. a list of all the school rules. i started to read it, but almost immediately he said ‘flip it over’ and on the back was a single word, YES.

i loved this guy.

now, for the second story. remember how i mentioned he never wore shorts?

a girl i was sort of friends with (emersen) came up with the idea. fifth grade year was our last year of elementary school, and it was our last chance to see mr. dan in something other than shorts. so she asked him if, on the last day of school, he’d wear pants.

his response?

i would, but i don’t own a pair.

this fucking legend doesn’t own a single pear of pants. he literally only wore cargo shorts. every single day. because he didn’t own pants.