By Irene Muniz-Frias
High school was the laughter period. From seventh grade to senior year (high school for us in Puerto Rico), everything was funny. When my mom said no, when my mom said yes, when my friends fell down (too many times to count), even when I got a bad grade. All was hilarious and had laughing potential. I guess it’s normal and it happens to all of us. But for my friends and I, that laughter period came to a halt (for a few days) for a very important activity.
It was seventh grade and my friends and I were involved in community service. We absolutely loved it. We tutored underprivileged children, arranged a few “brownies and Doritos parties” for them, became teachers’ assistants at various public schools and launched our biggest project: Building a movie theatre for some very special kids at a children’s hospital cancer ward. When we told them the news, I can still remember how all their little faces lit up. We were delighted to assist and we organized a special one-time event to commemorate the theatre’s opening. Once all the hard work had been done, we sent out letters to the press, the parents and the hospital crew so everyone could join us. We would have movies, popcorn, and most of all, we would offer kids a movie day.
With everyone inside the small, cozy theatre, the supervisor decided we needed to gather around in order to pray.
It should be noted: Our leader was an extremely religious woman. My friends and I were not. We all grew up around religion, but we didn’t really practice it. And of course, in seventh grade, even religious affairs are funny.
Regardless, we had to thank God for allowing us to build this movie theatre for children who needed some happiness in their lives. We knew that, but we still rolled our eyes at the idea because we never knew what to say or how to act. But we had to behave. We held hands and our supervisor started praying, but this time, her words were a little loud. And they seemed to only get louder and louder. My friend Paola, who was holding my right hand, immediately started to feel uncomfortable and squeezed my hand so tight I had to push her. Soon enough we all tried to hold our breaths in order to avoid bursting into laughter. I swear this prayer was the longest one I’ve ever heard. Maybe it was 20 seconds, but for us it seemed like a never-ending religious journey. It wasn’t that it was all that hilarious, but once we got going, we just couldn’t stop. In a matter of seconds, Paola could no longer stay quiet. She started laughing so loud that even tears rolled down her eyes. But you know what else rolled down? Her pee.
My 13-year-old “mature” friend pissed her jeans in the middle of our prayer circle. The only thing I clearly remember were the supervisor’s eyes becoming wider by the minute. She seriously wanted to kill us. She just stood there looking at Paola’s jeans, then at the stain on the new red carpet that decorated the children’s theatre. We were asked to step out. Even I felt guilty for Paola’s pee! What a joke. But that’s what friends are for, right?
When Paola’s mom found out what her daughter had done, she almost pissed her own pants. She said Paola had to ride in the trunk because she had been to the car wash earlier in the day. Yes, we wrote an apology letter, but we didn’t return for a year. The kids missed us; the supervisor didn’t.
Now, a 20-year-old, I’ve been to church roughly 10 times in my life, excluding weddings and baptisms. And of course my First Communion in the fourth grade (my parents made me do it.) Paola has never, ever stepped foot in a church after her incident. She thinks it will happen all over again, but we keep reminding her that not everyone prays so loudly. But then again not everyone pees when he or she laughs.
She still prays: Dear God, forgive me, for I have peed.
