by Lane Maguire

I was only allowed to write one senior confession for the yearbook. But I have too many confessions and too many explanations to have confined my senior confession to a short sentence for the yearbook. So, I’ve decided to use my Dart senior column to rid my conscience of some of my darkest confessions, four of which you can read about below.

1. I got lost in Barcelona, Spain.

Dear Señorita Hollstein,

Remember during the 2012 STA Spain Trip when Sarah Vickery, Hannah McCausland, Lindsey Valdiviez and I begged you to let us run early in the morning? Remember how you consented on one condition? That one condition was that we run only around a specified two-block span. Out loud we all agreed to the condition. But you have to understand that running five miles around a two-block span would be extremely monotonous. You have to understand that running is one of the best ways to explore a city. We thought we had the perfect plan. We would make a simple loop. It would be impossible to get lost. The problem was that Spain’s streets are not laid out in the same grid-like fashion as Kansas City’s. When we realized we didn’t know where we were, we started to panic. When we realized we couldn’t remember the name of our hotel or the name of the street it was on, we really started to sweat. When we realized that we’d left the laminated card with all of the trip supervisors’ numbers on it (the one we were supposed to carry with us at all times), we started to hyperventilate. We confronted every person that we saw on the street making our best attempt at asking for directions. It’s amazing how one day it seems that every person in Spain speaks English, yet that day we couldn’t find a single one. And let’s be honest, even after two to three years of Spanish classes, our Spanish speaking skills weren’t exactly top-notch. Plus, it’s hard to ask for directions when you don’t even know the name of your hotel. To this day, I have no idea how we found our way back. I credit luck. I credit Lindsey for her uncanny directional sense and her ability to stay calm in such a stressful situation (While the rest of us were hyperventilating, Lindsey kept her usual poker face). I also credit The St. Teresa’s Bar, the one landmark we finally recognized that confirmed Lindsey’s directional sense. We made it back to our hotel just in time. Just in time to shower, eat and make our school’s 9am museum reservation. “You must know those two blocks really well by now,” Señorita Hollstein joked later that day. You have no idea.

2. I walked into the wrong house at a pasta party.

I should probably begin by explaining what a pasta party is. A pasta party is basically a large pasta and dessert buffet for the cross country team hosted by a group of parents at one of the runner’s homes before every meet. The first pasta party of my junior year was held at Jane Evan’s home. After the practice before our first meet of the year I drove my sister Brit and Hannah McCausland to Jane’s house. We couldn’t remember Jane’s exact house number, but we remembered the description of her house that she had given us. Hannah and I stopped Brit just as she was about to knock on the door of the house that seemed to fit that description. As it was Brit’s first pasta party as a freshman, we had to inform her that it was against custom to knock or ring the doorbell. We walked in through the unlocked door to find a family that I have never seen before sitting at a dinner table. The three of us stood there awkwardly for a few moments waiting. Waiting for the family at the table to tell us where the pasta was. Or to tell us where the rest of the team was. Or to say something. Anything. Instead, they just stared back at us. When we simultaneously realized that this couldn’t possibly be the right house, we quickly made our exit, falling to the ground, laughing as soon as we made it out of the house. The mom followed us outside only to find us all collapsed on her front lawn.

3. I once went a month without showering.

It was sophomore year. Before you judge me, know that it was during swim season. Know that pool water is chlorinated. Know that chlorination kills 98% of all harmful bacteria. During this time, I kept my hair in a bun. When my friends prompted me to take my hairband out of my hair, the sheer amount of grease, chlorine and who knows what else in my hair held the bun in place. It was then that I figured it was probably time to shower.

4. I still don’t know my way around Kansas City.

You would think that after seventeen years of living in the same city, in the same neighborhood, in the same house, I would know my way around by now. Wrong. It’s understandable that I could lose my way in a foreign country. But in my own neighborhood? Let’s just say the extent of my poor directional skills was confirmed the day I attempted to pick up lunch for my advisory. I was picking up lunch from Chipotle. The one on Main Street. The one just 0.9 miles away. A mere four minute drive. Just to be safe, I entered the address into my phone’s navigator. I felt relieved when I made it safely there. That was easy, I thought. Why did I even think I needed to use my phone’s navigator? Confident, I turned off my phone’s navigator for the drive back. How could I get lost? St. Teresa’s was literally a straight shot down Main Street. All I know is that I ended up driving around for a good 15 minutes before I found my way back. I sprinted up the steps of Donnelly with a box full of burritos as I heard the bell announcing the end of first activity ring. My advisory looked a little worried when I walked in 30 minutes after I had left, wondering where I had been. I lied and told them about the unusually long line at Chipotle when, in reality, there had been no line at all.

Now that I’ve cleared my conscience of these confessions, I can leave St. Teresa’s and begin college with a clear conscience. But that doesn’t mean I will forget all of the memories –embarrassing or not – I have made as a St. Teresa’s Star.