Working the Walk of Shame

Ah, the Walk of Shame. We’ve all been there – slithering home at 8 o’clock in the morning on a Friday, clutching four-inch heels in one hand and yanking down a much too tight skirt with the other. And if you haven’t been there yet, have no fear. It will happen to you, eventually. The Walk of Shame spreads like a viral disease.
One morning you’re judging some poor girl’s every barefooted step, and the next you’re right there in her five inch, platform shoes. It’s embarrassing, uncomfortable, and sometimes even traumatizing. But it happens to the best of us. Just to prove to you ladies that you’re not alone in your embarrassment, I thought I’d share with you my most horrifying Walk of Shame experience.

It was my second semester of college, and I was living in Easton Hall. That Friday morning at 9:30 it was pouring down rain. It had been raining the night before, too, but I hadn’t noticed it then. I had other things on my mind.
That morning, all I wanted was to make it safely from College Ave. to Easton Hall without being noticed. Needless to say, I was trying to accomplish the impossible. Soaked to my core, I hobbled past McKeldin Mall in wedges and a mini dress. I stared down at my feet the entire time, but I could feel the pitiful stares from girls in rain boots and leggings soaking through me like the rain.
I had a discussion at 10 o’clock, which I fully intended to skip (deservedly, I think). Just as I was reaching North Campus, I heard someone call my name from behind me. Momentarily forgetting my physical state, I turned around to see who it was. I think that may have been my biggest mistake of college, so far.
A few feet behind me, in a trench coat and umbrella, was my TA. “Going to class?” he asked me, genuinely. I couldn’t even respond. I stood still in my ruined wedges, shocked beyond all belief. I thought maybe if I didn’t move he would think he had only imagined me; or at least he’d be confused enough to just turn around and walk away. Instead, he walked towards me.
And then, as if I wasn’t humiliated enough already: “Want to share my umbrella?”
It was as if the gods had parted the clouds and decided to take all their frustration with humanity out on me – all at once.

There I was, soaking wet in my Thursday night outfit, sharing an umbrella with my TA as we walked to class together. I know I should have been extremely traumatized by what my teacher thought about the whole situation, or by what passersby thought, but all I could think was, “Seriously?!”
So, there it is. My Walk of Shame confession. I’m hoping none of you have one to top that. But if you do, think of it like this: every embarrassing, horrifying experience you have in college will only make your time here that much more memorable. After these four years, we will only be able to relive college through the crazy stories we tell our boring adult friends. So appreciate these moments as they come – every trip up the stairs, every slip at the Diner, every drunken Jimmy John’s conversation, and especially every Walk of Shame.