Fire drills are not my favorite thing in the world. It's nothing but sensory overload. (I don't believe I've mentioned this, but I have Aspergers, which is a sub-form of Autism. Go ahead and make fun of me about it. I honestly don't g.a.s. anymore.)

The flashing lights and eardrum bursting alarms, the chaos of the 2,367 students in the hall all at once.. It's just overwhelming, pure confusion.

I hate fire drills.

In 8th grade, I found out what was worse than a fire drill.

A fire drill when you have a sprained ankle and crutches.

The school I was in for 8th grade had three floors, almost spiral stairs, and 2,300+ kids. I was on the top floor with 2/3 of my grade. I had also just sprained my ankle two days before the first fire drill of the year. (P.E. can be a very dangerous class for me, since I have the coordination of a squid on LSD.)

I was in homeroom, at the end of the school day, doodling Star Wars characters instead of actually doing schoolwork. You know, the usual.

I an ace bandage around my left foot an leg, and crutches balancing on the side of my desk. They weren't balanced for long.

The fire alarm goes off, it's sharp scream piercing the stale air of my classroom. My school system never tells kids when it's a drill, so every time it goes off, the school goes crazy because they think they'll end up like the Nazis in Indiana Jones and the raiders of the lost ark.

I was one of those kids. I need to know thing like that in advance, otherwise every beep of a microwave makes me worry that I'm going to burn like the mother in The Hundred Foot Journey.

The alarm goes off, kids are scrambling out of their desks and shoving past still-sitting me. Jeff was sitting in the desk behind me, and ran to the front of the room, knocking down my crutches in the process. Everyone was out the door, including my teacher, Mr. Tenhagen.

The main fire safety rule of my school system: Teachers first, students, well... Every man for himself.

I was alone in my classroom, scrambling to grab my crutches off the ground without hitting my foot on the bottom of the desk.

I ended up sliding off my seat, and landing stomach down on the ground. At that moment, I accepted the fact that I would burn to death.

I actually screamed, as loud as I could "TO MY SCHOOLMATES I SAY: GOODBYE MY FRIENDS, AND GOODBYE ASSHOLES, FOR TODAY I WILL BURN!" before folding my hands and praying that my death would be quick and not super painful.

"This is how I die, isn't it?" I asked myself.

I felt hands grab my midsection, and before I knew it, I was slung over Mr. Tenhagen's shoulder. He kicked my crutches out of the way, and started jogging toward the school's front lawn.

Picture this: A 6'4" man, in his 50s, with grey hair and weight to spare, carrying a 13 year old girl (who weighed  about 130 pounds, and was roughly 5'6" at the time) over his shoulder like a bag of rice or something. Now picture the man practically running down three flights of stairs with that girl on his back.

That was the situation I was in.

We got outside, where, out of the corner of my eye, I saw people I knew standing in strait lines. The lines we were supposed to get in during a fire drill.

Boy did I feel like a moron.

My homeroom class just happened to be at the end of the line, meaning everyone in my school saw me as I was carried by my teacher. Everyone.

Mr. Tenhagen dropped me onto the ground, knocking the wind out of me. He asked me if I was okay, why I was on the ground, and who I was talking about in my "goodbye friends and assholes" statement.

About 40 seconds later, the principle said it was time to go back in. My teacher picked me up bridal style, and started to the door. Everyone stared. I was humiliated. I covered my face with my hands to try and hide identity. Unfortunately, I had hair like that of Jonny from Hotel Transylvania, thus making me stand out in any crowd.

(Seriously, my hair was weirdly poofy. It was like I had been struck by lightning, and my hair stayed staticky forever.)

But what happened next was REALLY embarrassing. The teacher in charge of the yearbook, pulled out a camera, ordered kids to get out of her shot, and had me and Mr. T SMILE FOR THE YEARBOOK.

If you want a free Lakeshore Middle School yearbook, it's in one of Michigan's dumps, 'cause the second I saw what was included, it was in the garbage.

Before that, I had hated fire drills. After that...

I REALLY hated fire drills.