Jon22: The Website of Jonathan Dobres

When I think back on high school, it’s often the most embarrassing moments that pop up in bright, searing color. There’s this one particular sequence of events that I’ll probably never forget.

I finished lunch, and I had just passed through the cafeteria doors into the hallway, hoping to beat the crush of students to my next class while the halls were still clear. One minute I was walking, and the next I lost my balance and landed on the floor, absorbing most of the impact in my knees. My default reaction in such situations is to get up immediately, thus minimizing potential witnesses and leaving little time for anyone to get any bright ideas about rushing to my aid. I was particularly eager in this case, as I had fallen almost directly in front of our elderly hall monitor. I stood up shakily, and looked back at the spot where I had tripped.

I saw nothing. I had tripped on nothing. My brain just lost track of where my legs and feet were going and it resulted in a nice slice of what today we would call “epic fail.”

“Are you alright?” the hall monitor asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of genuine concern and mild fear over a potential lawsuit.

“I’m great. No problem,” I said quickly.

I took a few steps forward, and here, my body betrayed me. My muscles were jittery from the impact and the extra adrenaline, and I could barely take two steps, let alone walk a straight line. Against my protests, the hall monitor drafted a student to fetch a wheelchair, and I was placed in it, en route to the nurse’s office. And at this moment, of course, the bell rings, and the halls flood with everyone.

Everyone I know, everyone I don’t know, everyone I like, everyone I don’t like, and everyone who doesn’t like me can see me. Worse, they’re all looking at me, because the damn wheelchair takes up half the hallway. And I try to tell myself that it’s not so bad, don’t be ridiculous, every teenager thinks that all eyes are on them at all times, but in this case, it’s true. I want to alternately vanish, explode, melt into the floor, die, scream with rage, and explain to people that if I had just waited an extra God damned minute before I got up, none of this would even be happening. I feel helpless, small, and ridiculous as I am wheeled a million miles to the nurse’s office under the gaze of a thousand judgmental, teenage eyes.

It takes the nurse a matter of minutes to deem that I am, in fact, fine. I walk out of the nurse’s office without the slightest hint of difficulty, completely humiliated. It didn’t leave so much as a bruise.

So believe me when I tell you that I know exactly how Cheney felt today. This consummate politician, this grand manipulator, this leader of men, this power broker of power brokers, carted onto the majestic inaugural balcony like a pathetic, shriveled old man. During a rare occasion in which the most powerful people in our nation’s history are concentrated onto a single, glorious point, Dick Cheney was forced to participate from the sidelines, dwarfed by the enormity of his surroundings, and forced to gaze up at his successors as if they were literal giants. I cannot imagine a more humiliating exit for a man who so prides himself on his ability to move in the circles of power. Yes, I know exactly how Dick Cheney felt today.

And he fucking deserves it.