Prom Dresses Need Pockets: One Girl’s Unfortunate Event

By Avery Friedt

Students enjoy dancing at prom. Photo courtesy of Sage Studios.
Students enjoy dancing at prom. Photo courtesy of Sage Studios.

Last Saturday, I, like many of my fellow upperclassmen, was dancing my heart out at prom. In the middle of a particularly upbeat song, I felt the tape that was holding my dress up start to come unstuck. Not wanting to have a Janet Jackson like wardrobe malfunction on the dance floor, I hurried to the bathroom, where I rushed into the nearest stall to readjust. This was a two hand job, which required me to set my cell phone on the toilet paper dispenser for a moment. After I got my dress back in place, I reached to tuck my hair behind my ear, only to find that my earring was gone. Frantically, I raced out of the bathroom in the hopes that I’d find the missing jewelry around the spot I’d been dancing the most rigorously. I got across the dance floor in record time, but right when I reached my destination, I felt that I was missing more than my earring. I had left my new Galaxy S5 Active sitting unattended in a bathroom stall. I don’t think I would have run faster if a bear had been chasing me. I flew into the bathroom. The stall I had been in was occupied, so I had to wait outside of it. I probably looked very strange to the other girls who were in the restroom at that time, however I didn’t care. When the girl in the stall finally emerged, I swung the door open and scanned every inch of the stall. Not seeing my phone, I turned to the girl wildly. “Was there a phone in here?” I demanded.

She looked at me like I had just eaten a kitten in front of her. “No, there was nothing in there when I went in.” She left the bathroom without washing her hands. After scouring the rest of the ladies room, I determined it was no longer there. someone had to have turned it in. I left the bathroom and headed straight to the nearest adult, a parent volunteer.

“Did anyone turn in a phone?”

“Uhhhh, not that I know of. ”

I thanked him and hurried to the next adult. Every chaperone I talked to had the same answer for me. No one had seen a phone that wasn’t being held by someone. At the administration table, I was told that all I could do was check in at the front entrance and coat check every so often to see if anything had turned up.

So that’s what I did. For two hours. Needless to say, nothing turned up. The dance was ending in about 20 minutes. I was frantic. My friends had left to enjoy the rest of their night, leaving me with no phone and no car, as we had taken my friend’s Honda Civic. I made one last round, checking in with everyone again to make sure no one had come to their senses and done the right thing. Once again, I got nothing but bad news.

Admitting defeat, I walked out to go home, not remembering my lack of a car until I reached the doors. I reached for my phone to call for a ride, and then remembered it was probably half way to China by now. Panicked, I looked around and spotted a young couple cuddling on the bench waiting for their ride. The civic center employees had locked up for the night, and it was just me and the couple left in the building. I was left with no other option other than to interrupt their embrace to borrow a phone. Needless to say, they were not pleased.

Unfortunately for me, the only numbers I could remember were my parents’. My dad answered the phone. I don’t think I’ve heard him that angry in my life. A line of explicit terms flowed from his mouth as he cursed the girl who snagged my $600 phone. In no less than six  minutes, he got from our house in Rapid Valley to the civic center. I crawled up into his pick up and recounted the night’s events to him. He lectured me about my irresponsibility as he drove me to my car. After the lecture though, he comforted me. He knew that all I wanted was to have a good prom, seeing as how my date last year left me before we had even crossed the streamered threshold.

When we arrived at my car, he asked if I had enough gas. I told him no, I had planned to fill up in the morning, expecting a lecture. Instead, he had me follow him to the nearest gas station and filled up my tank so I didn’t have to stand in the rain in my dress. We drove home after that, and my mom told me that we would be going to AT&T the next day to get me a replacement phone. I took off my dress, washed my makeup off, and crawled into bed with my hair still done up. The clock read 12:15. All my friends were still out having fun, and I was home in bed because someone decided to be a phone stealing abomination.

My streak of bad proms has gone unbroken, and, unless I become a chaperone, will likely remain that way for the rest of my life. Right now, I’m fairly upset about the loss of the most expensive item I own (owned?), but hopefully in the future I’ll be able to amuse my kids with the story of how I got picked up from my senior prom by my dad and was in bed by midnight. I’ll be sure to tell them not to ever leave their phones in bathroom stalls either.

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