Ham She Wrote [9.3.08]

More often than not, specific human behavior is difficult to recognize. The nationally acclaimed act of "people-watching" is deemed unfit for so-called normal humanity, but what of watching oneself? I assumed my recurring role as "Alyssa" was one that had been figured down to the last detail. However, I have found that when under certain pressures, to one's own surprise, the self can tend to become the most interesting of subjects. Today's pressure just so happens to be the fear of getting caught. Although, it should be mentioned that legality is relative. For example, stealing money is wrong, but what about being an accessory - to the devouring of several ham shavings and a single twelve-grain slice of bread? Today was busy to say the least, and in turn, my friend and I found ourselves in his house, coincidentally in the midst of peak hunger. Murphy and his law made sure I had just enough time to waste, but not enough to eat a decent meal. So, with my friend's seal of approval, I entered the fridge empty and exited full of possibilities. I thought to myself, ham and provolone and chip dip, oh my! I knew that what I grabbed did not belong to my friend, but to his roommate...and neither of us seemed to care. However, amidst the third and fourth bite, we heard the creak of the front door. I halted the chewing. My stomach dropped. Immediately, almost as instinctively as the "soccer-mom-arm-save", I shoved the remaining evidence in the silverware drawer and slammed it shut. In what seemed like a lifetime, but realistically occurred in the following four or five seconds, my friend and I took the stage as those kids that did not do anything: sandwich? Er - uh - who said anything about a sandwich? (Nervous laughter and flailing shrugs included.) Then a sigh of relief erupted from both parties after the quick and almost sheepish realization of mistaken identities. The roommate that we "borrowed" from was student teaching, and the whodunit would go unanswered.
Reflecting on the rather silly situation and our reaction, some questions could be raised. Does hunger constitute theft? Are there fishy fingerprints lurking on the counters of Maple East? Would I ever repay my friend? And if so, what would I repay him with? Ham? An eighth of a twelve-grain loaf? A half-eaten can of chip dip? And perhaps the most important question of all: did I learn my lesson? Twelve minutes later, my friend went upstairs to take a shower, and coincidentally left his book bag downstairs. I looked around, turned off ESPN, walked over to the backpack, and started snooping. I sneakily discovered the treasure of the century - and covered up my onion-dip breath with a stick of his Stride gum.