March 12th - Rolling Backpacks

I saw someone with a rolling backpack today and thought to myself: wow. How handy does that look. So easy, so accessible. 

Looking at that rolling backpack was also a brutal flashback to my sophomore year of high school. 

I had just been invited to one of the “cool kids” Halloween parties and was putting myself through the ringer trying to decide whether or not to go. On one hand, there would be alcohol. But on the other hand, there would be alcohol. What was a young naive gal to do?

The answer was decided for me when I was up all night with a stomach bug that we eventually found out was a ruptured appendix. I was in the hospital for 6 total nights, sending my mom on missions to track down whatever food I was craving in the hopes that I would finally eat and get to leave. She would come running back with the glazed donut I swore I would eat, I would take one sniff of the sugary sweetness and wrinkle my nose in disgust. Nope, I’d say, The craving has passed. 

So no party for me. But what I did get upon my discharge was a strict “do not lift anything” warning and, with it, a rolling backpack. 

I tried to pick out the most inconspicuous backpack possible, unsuccessfully swallowing back my preemptive tears over being bullied for being one of the nerds with a rolling backpack. The backpack was a beauty - a plain black bag with a long black handle. I was rolling through the packed high school hallway one morning, doing my best to avoid running over any unassuming toes. My eyes were down, focusing hard, when an older girl behind me shrieked and dramatically fell over my poor little backpack. 

Oh my god! she yelped. Can you get the fu*% back to kindergarten?! Wow. 

Now, let me tell you. In the couple weeks that I was a roller, I became a quick expert. There was no way that I had tripped that girl. She had tripped herself. On purpose. To bring attention to my lame little rolling backpack. I also did my best to never brave the hallways alone. A walking buddy seriously limited the possibilities of being brutally picked on. 

Sorry sorry, I said hurriedly, very alone in the hallway, not a friend in sight. I just had surgery. But she had already walked away in a huff, leaving a wake of amused high schoolers, eager to pick on the little sophomore loser. I quickly ducked inside my classroom and, of course, had to blink back tears as I thought over the unfairness of the situation. 

Being one of the “losers” with a rolling backpack was eye opening to say the least. And it just confirmed that there is absolutely no way I will ever make fun of someone with a rolling backpack for 3 main reasons - 1. You just don’t know anything. 2. Why would you?? If you don’t actually care and it’s not affecting you in any way, why would you go out of your way to make someone else feel inferior. And 3. They’re actually really handy... I mean, who wants back problems? I sure don’t.