“Been hassled by the police lately?” Misty asked me.

“No, no I haven't,” I laughed. Shoot! I should have said, “No, I have found the secret to keeping them off your back. Wear matching shoes!” That would have been funny. Unfortunately I have social anxiety disorder and a good majority of my cognitive processes, including my wit, lock up whenever people talk to me. People close to me sometimes seem to have a hard time believing I have social anxiety disorder. This is not surprising: considering the event that I am writing this to describe which occurred a couple weeks prior.

It was an unusual start to a unique day. I woke up eager to get ready for school. In the past year, I have brushed my hair maybe five times. I am not usually eager to get ready for school. When I do get ready for school, I usually only take those steps in the preparation of myself that I deem to be essential; however, this day was different.

To demonstrate why, I will describe to you a little pink piece of paper, an invitation, I had in my possession. The first line of the paper read “attire: formal pajamas” in an italic font larger than all the other text on the sheet. The next line was in a much smaller font, and it read “[or]”. Then in a fixed-width font comparable in size to the first line with exaggerated letter spacing, the third line read “the KLA prefinals superbash giddyup.” Here KLA stands for Kristen, Lexi, and Alyssa. Alyssa is my girlfriend, and Lexi and Kristen are her roommates. The next blocks of the paper contained the date and time of the party followed by some quotes from the ladies. The second to last line read, in the same font as the third line but smaller, “note: the dress code will be strictly enforced!!!” The last line, in a tiny font, read “*because it wouldn't be our kind of party unless we dressed up crazy!”

My decision to attend the party was a very long, hard fought battle, which roared inside my head for a solid week. I could write pages on the battle alone. Suffice to say, the pros and cons of that decision ended in an almost dead heat, and what very well could have turned the tide of battle in favor of attendance was the party's dress code. I love doing crazy things, and I love to stand out. In case you have never heard of formal pajamas, they are quite the opportunity to stand out. The way to create a formal pajama outfit is to find some pieces of formal clothing, and put them on. Then find some pieces of clothing that you might sleep in, and put them on.

The first thing I did when I woke on my unusual day was assemble what I was going to wear into a pile. I threw on my orange dress shirt and my blue and white striped tie to start the pile. Following those, I threw my purple and black robe on the pile. Then I threw one black dress sock with penguins, one black leather dress shoe, and one tan colored leather slipper onto the pile. Though they were not crazy in the least, I felt it necessary to throw a pair of boxers on the pile. The last thing I added to the pile was a pair of my girlfriend's pajama bottoms. They were light blue flannel pajama bottoms with little purple and pink sparkly cats on them, each cat with a little title below it, like “Glamour Cat.” I am almost exactly a foot taller than my girlfriend is, and my extreme height is located disproportionately in my legs.

The first thing I remember thinking when I left the house that day was that it was a glorious day. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the sun shined very brightly in the sky. There was a light breeze, and the temperature was what I consider perfect, probably around sixty-five degrees. I was, at the same time, very excited and very afraid. After all, I thought most people would find what I was wearing very funny, and I thought it was very possible that other people would ridicule me.

I had left home early, so I could stop by my mom's work, which was right across the street from my bus stop. The first person that saw me was a bus driver, and I saw him laugh. I was glad that my look had apparently gone over well with at least one person. On my way to the bus stop, I remember a red SUV went past me traveling in the same direction, and then it turned. Then it went past me again and parked in front of me. The driver, a balding, middle aged man, was on a cell phone and had driven past me twice, so I had figured that he was lost and was calling some for directions. I remember thinking that it was very responsible of him to pull over to the side of the road to use his cell phone.

I visited my mom for a while. It was a rather uneventful visit. All that I remember of it was that the last thing she said to me before I left was, “Don't get in trouble.” She was nervous about the way that I was dressed.

I walked out to my bus stop, and as the bus pulled to the curb to pick me up, my perception of time slowed to a crawl. A police car pulled into the parking lot beside my bus stop. Then as I turned to get on the bus, I saw the red SUV drive past it, and the driver point at me while looking at the police car. Panic swept over me. Suddenly, I felt very defeated. I was very excited about my outfit, and I felt as though I was about to have this day taken away from me.

I realized that the police officers must have been there to talk to me, but I got on the bus anyway. I got on the bus in part because if they were not here to talk to me then I would have missed the bus for no reason. I also got on the bus because I was scared, and I just wanted to sit down and have the whole situation disappear; however I had no such luck. As I was sitting down, a police officer boarded the bus. He pointed at me, and with his hand motioned me to leave the bus. I ride the bus a lot, and I have seen many people removed from the bus by the police. That day, I learned that it is as embarrassing as I had always imagined it would be. I stood up, and walked off the bus feeling eight inches shorter than when I stepped on the bus.

The bus drove off, leaving me alone at the bus stop with the police officer. He asked me something to the effect of, “How are you doing today, sir?”

I looked him in the eyes, and I responded with a very truthful, “Bad.” The situation could have been going quite a bit worse. In fact, I thought I was handling the situation quite well. I had yet to faint, to run, to cry, or to be shot.

“Why is that?” he asked.

“Because you are here,” I responded frankly. I did not have anything against him personally. I think he understood that. It is just usually better to not have the police called on you and to not have the police remove you from the bus.

“Why is that bad?” he asked.

“Because I am in trouble.” I responded thinking that last question was a bit obvious, but perhaps from that side of the gun and badge there is a different perspective.

“You are not in trouble. Do you know why I am here?” he questioned.

“Probably because of the way I am dressed” I said back.

“Why are you dressed like that?” he queried.

“I am going to a formal pajama party tonight,” I told him.

“A pajama party, huh? Why are you dressed up for that right now?” he questioned further. I started the conversation with very firm speech. I enunciated well and spoke loudly, but by this point in the conversation, I was speaking in a manner more typical of me. I was speaking quickly and softly, which is why I do not believe he heard the formal in formal pajama party. He must have thought that I was weird.

“To make a statement, I guess,” I responded. My response really did not make sense, I was just saying the first thing that popped into my head, and I was very desperate to have anything at all pop into my head. What I should have said was, “I am dressed like this now for the fun of it, so that I will remember this day for a long time to come, and to make people laugh.”

He said, “Well you will certainly make a statement. We had someone call us who was concerned that you were mentally ill and needed some help.”

I could think of no way of convincing him, by myself, that I was sane. I could barely even maintain a conversation with him. “My mom works right over there across the street,” I said pointing at my mom's work place. “She will vouch for my sanity.”

“Lead the way,” he said. We crossed the street, and walked up to the front door. She was the only one working, and she kept the door locked. The front of the building has large windows, so you can see into the office. I knocked a few times and no one responded, and by visual inspection, it was clear there was no one in there. At this point, I felt as though I was about four feet tall and as bright red as a tomato. I was almost starting to question my own sanity. I was just there talking to her two minutes prior. Luckily, it struck me that she must have been out back smoking a cigarette.

I led the police officer to the rear of the building. Filled with panic, I walked quickly, thus I was a couple meters in front of the police officer by the time we reached the back of the building. Fortunately, my mom was exactly where I thought she would be. As I saw her I said, “Mom, do you remember how you told me not to get in trouble?” As I finished the sentence, the police officer rounded the corner. My mom saw the officer and started laughing hysterically. She did vouch for my sanity, as I thought she would, and we all had a good laugh.

I eventually talked my mom into giving me a ride to school. Once there, I made one friend or another stay around me all day, so that it would be clear to everyone that I was either sane or had supervision.

There were two reactions of note that people had upon hearing this story. The first was animosity, which people expressed in varying degrees, directed both at police officer and at the man who called him. A majority of people who heard the story were disappointed, and they believed what happened to me should not have happened. My girlfriend was quite outraged, to the point that she was ready to write letters to local editorial boards. Normally, I would have responded with even greater outrage than she would. I am sure I would have written those letters, myself, with rhetoric to suggest that I thought what happened to me was the greatest crime ever committed. However, that was not my reaction. I believe it is probably the case that the man in the SUV did not have my best interests in mind when he called the police. I believe that it is more than likely, that he just called the police on me because he found me offensive, and not because he actually thought I was mentally ill. However, I had a very mature thought when this was all happening to me. Maybe, just maybe, he was just watching out for my safety, and I decided that no matter how improbable I believed this was, I would give him the benefit of the doubt. Furthermore, I cannot really fault the police officer, because he was just doing his job. He had no time to make a choice, because the bus was right there, and it was going to leave. I could have been going somewhere important and in a rush, but maybe the police officer would have given me a ride. I was removed from the bus to no productive end, and I did not do anything wrong. Yet, it is possible that everyone did what they thought was right with pure motives, and my missing the bus was just an unavoidable consequence of that.

The other reaction I am going to write about is my mother's reaction. After the police officer left, I went back into her office, and we talked. She wanted me to go home and change. I felt like this is what would have been outrageous, and not the police officer or the man in the SUV. Mauren Dowd is credited with first saying the following, “The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get even less than you settled for.” There was no reason that I did not deserve to go to school dressed however I wanted to be, regardless of social norms. It would have been outrageous for me to settle for less than I deserved.

This story has a happy conclusion, and so I would not change a thing if were given the opportunity. I was a hit at the party, not only because I was dressed so crazily (the hosts choose me as best dressed), but also because of the story of my run-in with the law. I believe everyone who has heard this story has laughed, so if you did not, you are the first. Though this story may expose some deep-rooted social issues of our society, they are not as important as it is to laugh.