Space Crypto Magic

When I was in sixth grade, I went away to Space Camp for a week or so. It was the first time I was away from home for any extended period of time, and by golly I was scared to go. Mom went with me down to Huntsville, though, so it was okay, and as she said later, "it was a learning experience." But this post isn't about Space Camp, it's about when I came back to school after it was over. I felt as though I had been on a great adventure, but I was so shy and introverted and self-conscious about everything then (I hated sixth grade), that I didn't want to tell anyone about it. I wanted to wear the Space Camp garb I got for participating, but I was too shy to explain where I'd gotten it.

I do remember getting up the courage to wear the black-and-gray "Space Camp" sweatshirt on the Monday after I returned, and I don't think I got too many weird looks or elicited too many laughs from my rambunctious, hormone-crazed early teen classmates. In fact, the day should have gone pretty flawlessly. When I first arrived in the morning, I skipped my locker to go straight into Mr. Clark's homeroom. That's not that unusual, since I probably had the books for the first class in my backpack already, anyway.

You know the feeling in the back of your mind that you get when you know you're forgetting something or that something embarrassing is about to happen? Sixth grade afforded me plenty of opportunities to exercise that piece of my brain. I realized, after homeroom, that I had been away for so long at Space Camp that I had totally forgotten my locker combination. Bret, one of the best students in the class, Bret the brain, was not going to be able to get his homework out or have the correct books for the rest of the day!

I was terrified. In between periods, I tried with all my might to remember my combination. I failed each time. I drew blanks; I think I even cried. Back then, you see, anything that could cause anyone to laugh at me was a BIG DEAL. I was insecure about a lot, if you couldn't already tell.

I think I eventually solved the fiasco by getting up the courage to tell someone in the office about my mishap. I'm pretty sure the janitors had to cut off the lock with a huge set of metal cutters, causing a big scene in the hallway, making a brief spike in Master Lock sales, and leaving me wanting to crawl into the locker once they finally popped the bright orange door open.

You'd think that I would never let that happen again after the brief ostracism it caused me that year, but I seem to remember occasional lapses in combination memory a couple of times in high school, too. So what am I getting at? Well, for someone with a job who requires them to deal with numbers (and multiple passwords) frequently, remembering them is extremely important. I very nearly forgot a couple of critical PINs during work recently. It took a few abortive attempts before I finally conjured up the information in my head. All I could think about was my Space Camp self trying his hardest not to die of embarrassment. At least that cheered me up, because I think I've come a long way since then. But it also got me wondering: am I doomed to absent-mindedness with numbers forever?

I guess I would never make it on the LOST island... or maybe I'd just have to let Locke do it all for me.