It happened a few years ago, during a high school choir trip. We stopped at a mall after our performance, and were told to “Go do something” for the next 4 hours. I was not pleased. We didn’t have time to change, so the entire choir still wore black.
We walked in an exhausted sort of herd, a group of quiet teenagers with slicked back hair and polished shoes.Eventually, we broke up into smaller groups, wandering lethargically.
I found myself nearly alone, with only two other girls beside me. They didn’t seem to care about my presence much. That was fine. I didn’t want to talk anyway. As we were passing by a particular storefront, a window display caught my eye and I hurried into the store to enquire about it.
I was lucky. I left the store with the last copy of a book I’d been looking forward to for ages. I glanced around, but the others had apparently gone ahead without me, leaving me alone in this strange mall, hours from home. I wandered for a bit, book clutched to my chest, looking for someone, anyone I knew, but to no avail. I was furious.
I had been left alone with strangers in the least comfortable shoes possible. To make matters worse, I left my phone in my backpack on the bus, which was gone for repairs. Unable to stand it any longer, I marched to the nearest bench and peeled off my stilettos. Why didn’t anyone warn me to bring flats? I was miserable and just wanted to go home. I checked my watch. One o’clock. There was still two hours until I could leave.
With nothing else to do, I opened my book and lost myself in the story. I was only a few chapters in when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned abruptly, ready to hit someone with the spine of my book, but it was only the choir director, brandishing a cell phone.
“Time to go. Gather your things and head back to the bus.”
It was nearly three according to her phone. Bewildered, I checked my watch, certain I had only been reading for a few minutes. Mine read three pm as well. Thoroughly spooked, I stumbled to my feet and followed the others back to the bus. I reflected on the way beck home that I couldn’t have simply lost track of time while reading. I only got through a few chapters before I was interrupted. I didn’t know what to call it then, but now I’m sure I used a form of time shifting to get through the unpleasantness of my situation. I’m not certain, but I suspect that I’ve used this technique before at family dinners and such, but this was the first time I realized I was doing it.
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