Coppell Observer is a humorous column about life as a teenager. Please be warned that any and all sass is due to the writers’ similar situation as teenagers (even though we feel so much older). You, the reader, should not take any of these words seriously. Seriously. If this article makes you laugh, leave a comment.

The bell rings, signaling the end of second period…and the start of another harrowing mission across the Coppell High School hallways.

In theory, my trip to third period is simple. All I have to do is cross the senior bridge and head to the end of upstairs C Hall; for a fast walker such as myself, this should take no more than a minute. Apparently, however, the entire student body of CHS had a meeting in which they collectively decided to make my journey from point A to point B as long and difficult as possible.

First, I must face the crowd-talkers. 

It seems it has been so long since these people last saw each other that they simply must stop right in front of me to have a proper reunion. But while they laugh and talk and catch up as old friends do, I try desperately, hopelessly, to find a way around them, a process complicated by the fact that they have somehow managed to take up the entire width of the hallway. 

By some stroke of luck, I manage to bypass them unscathed. But I must now overcome the slow walker, a worthy opponent that appears in two distinct forms.

Its first form is the distracted student: while their attention is captivated by whatever exciting event is happening on Instagram or Snapchat, their feet seemed to have missed the memo that they actually need to move. This is still, of course, inexcusable, but at least understandable. 

The slow walker’s second form, however, is the fascinating one: the student who walks slow just to walk slow. They simply stroll along as if they have all the time in the world, as if the hallways are the Colosseum and they’re the awe-struck tourists. I agree, CHS is beautiful, but this is passing period, not stop-and-smell-the-roses period. I have places to be and people to see.

By now, I have made it halfway to class. But the worst of my tribulations are just beginning; I must now keep a watchful eye in order to avoid the high school sweethearts, else I will run right into them and become a victim of an extremely awkward third wheel situation.

Look, I get that you and Becky from third period are in love. I get that you want to share that love with the world. But if I see one more couple making out in the halls, I might just lose it. It’s as if the universe knows I’m single, and puts as many couples in my path as possible just to rub it in. Don’t people understand being in a happy relationship together around me is completely unacceptable? Gosh.

Anyway, I have exerted so much time and energy on my journey that I now need to go to the restroom. Here, I encounter the most terrifying obstacle of all: the bathroom-huddlers.

I’m not sure if it’s the ambiance or the enticing aromas, but for some reason, the restroom is the prime hub for people’s get-togethers. Maybe they’re having a team meeting or a seance of some sort — I don’t know, and I don’t think I want to know. But the moment you step inside, they all whip their heads around and stare at you like they’re birds of prey. 

Sometimes, I head right back out the doors before they get the chance to pounce and settle for hastily replanning my route. Other times, my need to use the restroom is simply too great. The key here, as I have learned over many years of experience, is earbuds, a lack of eye contact, and getting in and out as quickly as possible. It requires the utmost skill and speed.

Finally, I have made it to class. I collapse in my chair, catch my breath and thank the heavens my journey has come to an end. I am safe now within the walls of third period.

As the teacher begins his lesson, my thoughts wander to an old tale I heard long ago, in which a traveler was unable to escape the crowd-talkers and slow walkers and high school sweethearts and bathroom-huddlers and was thus stuck in an infinite loop of passing period. She never made it to class.

Some say she still roams the CHS hallways to this day.

Follow Anthony (@anthonycesario_) and @CHSCampusNews on Twitter.