It was third grade. I was on the school play ground. My friends were over by the tire swing, which wasn’t an actual tire, just a heavy, pale, plastic disk. They weren’t actually riding it. They were swinging it around and then trying to run through the middle of the circle it made. Sometimes they would stop and get eight people there, then  try to escape without getting hit, which was the goal. There were also kids over playing basketball on the court which wasn’t my thing (hmmm a tall kid who can’t play basketball. Who knew?) and some kids playing on the play structure, probably clogging the tube slide. My hands were blistery from being over at a friends house the night before, where I had been on their swing for so long my hands became sore and peeled. I’d never had blisters before, nor had I ever experienced this kind of hurt and soreness on my hands. I decided to get bandaids from the recess ladies to try to make it better because, let’s face it, when we were a small child, bandages made everything better. My hands had become sweaty and painful again so I tried to fix them like I had done so many times before. I put my head down, adjusting them as I went over to where my friends were, not looking where I was going.

If you haven’t been able to tell what happens, you’re in for a treat. My friends were playing at the tire swing and I had gone to get bandages. I wasn’t looking where I was going, just down at my hands. I knew the general direction that they were. As I finished putting the bandages back on my hands a new way, I tilted my head all the way up to see how close I was, or if I was still going the right way. The whole time I had spent walking toward them, something had seemed off. Like they seemed farther away from me than before. Then it hit me…
I can now say to any and all that among the most unusual things I’ve done, French kissing a tire swing is on that list. I was creamed, crushed, destroyed, absolutely obliterated. The tire swing and I had a fight, and the tire swing dominated. In third grade I was tall, I was so tall in fact, that I was right in the sweet spot for tire swing kisses. I blacked out for seconds, not remembering the actual impact, but do remember that I was walking, looked up, then was on the ground, wailing and balling my eyes out as I clutched my face. As it turns out, my friends had seemed so far away, because they had migrated to the other side of the tire swing, so the swing was between me and them. Oops. I was immediately bombarded by people. Friends, supervisors, elementary school upperclassmen (5th and 6th graders). No one actually helped me up, which I had to do on my own, but once I was up, I was mobbed (before they had just been in the general area, not to close, not to far) by people saying they’d take me to the office. Some of the actual things said were “Can we see it?” “Are you ok?” “Do you need an ice pack?” Those were the only things I could really make out other than the mob of people.

At recess you need a pass to go inside, but the recess lady that was walking the playground I was at just said, “Pick a friend if you can and just go.” Most everyone had stopped talking and they were just staring. I still didn’t know why. I tried opening my left eye but it hurt. The left side of my face had taken most of it. I couldn’t really pick anyone because my mind was a little shaken up (I just facepalmed using a tire swing. You tell me you can form a coherent thought after that), so one of my friends volunteered to take me down to the office. As we went inside the mud room, there was a bathroom that we passed. I told him to wait, I wanted to see my face. I half walked, half leaned in front of the mirror. What I saw I never expected to see waking up this morning. I couldn’t open my left eye because the whole left side of my face was purple, black, and slightly bleeding, I think. It’s all hazy. My lips were swollen and my cheek was pushing my bottom eye lid up, both were also swollen. Now I know why everyone was staring at me. My face looked like a purple water balloon with a little too much water.

A little while later when I was in the office, I asked if they called home. To answer my question, my mom walked into the nurse’s office. “Well I didn’t think I needed her to come here.” As it turns out, she was here to take me home. Apparently, you can’t go back to school if you just smashed your face into a big piece of plastic. Who knew? The swelling went down after I got ice on it to the point where I could see out of my left eye again. I did then go back to school the next day, which we had a 3rd grade graduation party, and despite my purple plum face, I played the best game of minigolf ever. But the morale of the story is don’t try to get a better look a tire swing… unless you want to go home early and be the best at minigolf. Then go ahead.