Grad School Getaway

“Well, you don’t even look upset!” Dr. M. said with awkward incredulousness, as he leaned back in his chair and stared at me across his desk.  He had just fired me from the Graduate Assistant program in the English Department at FAU for “abandonment.”

“Were you expecting me to cry or something?” I stared back, carefully keeping my neutral expression.  Why do people, men especially, always expect women to cry so easily? I’m not really a crier.  I prefer to lick my wounds in private.  I got up to leave.  “Are you done?” I asked, making sure I had permission to leave this uncomfortable conversation.  I’m not sure why I thought I needed it.

“I guess so. I mean, that’s it.” Dr. M. leaned forward and jiggled the mouse on his computer, probably about to complete whatever form he needed to in order to get me off his payroll.

I picked up my backpack from the floor next to the vinyl chair I had been sitting on, already feeling the air hit my sweaty khakis.  Between the vinyl, my anxiety over being caught, and the fact that it was South Florida, I had worked up quite a sweat in all of my hidden parts. Even my body knew not to let Dr. M. actually see me sweat.

“Sorry,” I said, half meaning it as I walked from his office and down the beige hall to exit the building.  I wasn’t really sorry.  I had been fired for giving my ENC101 students a week off so I could drive to Augusta, Georgia to do stand-up comedy for a whole week. I had never had a gig that long, and since comedy was my first love, I went for it. It was early 2000, so online learning wasn’t really a thing.  I couldn’t Zoom with my students.  So, I just gave them a couple of class periods off.  I never dreamed they would actually tell on me.

Still, if I had it to do over, I would have made the same decision.  That’s what I thought to myself as I drove my little black Nissan “home” to the townhouse I was renting in Margate.  My first husband and I had separated a few months earlier.  Since I was the one who was unfaithful, and the one who had the nerve to end our shitty marriage, I moved out, not realizing this would end up causing me to have to fight hard for custody of our son.

Everyone thought I was crazy for doing comedy.  My ex told me I was delusional if I thought I could make it as a comedian.  My stepdad told me I should just be home taking care of “the baby.” My mom thought I was nuts, too, but she did think I was funny, even when I made fun of her.  No one thought it was a good idea for me to drive to Augusta, Georgia to do comedy.  My mom, at least helped, though.  She gave me some cash and her gas station credit card.  I used the card to buy food as well as gas on the long drive to the middle of nowhere.  I also bought gas station coffee to keep me awake as I squinted at my MapQuest printout and the miles of nothing on the side of the road.  

Was it worth it? I guess. It was an experience I will never forget.  I was used to getting a lot of laughs, but the audiences from the border of South Carolina and Georgia didn’t find me that funny.  The headliner, an old woman who said “fuck” a lot (that was her act) tried to tutor me in stand-up comedy, I told her to fuck off.  At one point, a lovely drunk idiot yelled “Show us your tits!” I was thin then so my A-cups probably would not have kept them any more entertained than my jokes were.  It wasn’t a great week, but I got some stage time and learned what real grits taste like.

The day after being fired, I went to a temp agency.  After a couple of temp jobs, I found a full-time job as a receptionist and went back to only doing weekend comedy gigs, when my son was visiting my ex.  Life went on.  I moved to Fort Myers. I had a couple more terrible relationships. I found my forever husband. I eventually finished my Master’s Degree elsewhere and became the sarcastic, happy, online writing professor you have come to know and probably like.