Floor? Swallow, please.

There was a somewhat humiliating moment that happened at camp that, each time it loops through my head, I get that scritchy feeling that you get when you know that someone has looked at you and judged you as stupid or incompetent or weird or… well you know what I mean.

You’d think I’d be used to that, huh? ;)

Nobody likes to leave the impression that they are incapable. Or dumb. Whether I left THAT impression on these people or not, I can’t say. This may all be living in my head and probably didn’t even blip their radar.

It happened the day of the paintball firing squad; was related to the whole POW roleplaying scene.

All of the details of the capture and interrogation, right down to the execution, were supposed to be hammered out with the “torturers” and the “prisoners” sometime prior to the beginning of the scene. Because I was not a volunteer but was volunteered (big difference, if’n you ask me!), I wasn’t present nor privy to the details that Master worked out with the people in charge.

(Plus, I think there was a timing snafu and some of what should have been communicated amongst the key players prior to starting didn’t get done. Which wasn’t a big deal because it was all done in good fun and nobody really counts on a strict schedule or is unable to flow with a sudden change in plans at camp. Camp is a very fluid and relaxed place.)

Anyway.

So I was captured and marched up to the holding cell. At that point, Master and I were separated and I was dragged up to the table where the interrogator’s assistant was checking the POWs in.

First just let me point out that I SUCK at roleplaying. Which is why we don’t do it. I’m just not a good pretender, and can’t lose myself into a fictional character. I was probably the worst choice for POW evar. I’m sure Master just wanted to get me in front of the paintball gun.

The check-in process was the beginning of the roleplay. The assistant was quite strict in her demeanor, and demanding of answers. We were to be given numbers, recite limits and move on to the holding cell. No joking, no conversation about the weather, no heckling the crowd. Check in, sit down, and stfu.

So, she gruffly assigns me my prisoner number and then fires the question at me. “What are your limits!?”

*blink blink blink*

*pause*

She’s staring at me and I stare back. Total deer-in-headlights.

*silence*

“I don’t know.”

For a minute she just looked at me, then she must have decided I was roleplaying being difficult and refusing to answer so she asked again, louder, gruffer, more demanding.

I seriously had no idea what to say. I have never, ever, ever been given the option of setting my own limits, even during play with other people. I had no idea what he had already set up and wasn’t even about to offer something contrary to his wishes. I was completely stuck.

“I can’t answer that.” was the most intelligent reply I could come up with. It was then that she picked up on that I wasn’t pretending and that I was really actually standing there like a dumbfuck with no ability to list my own limits.

In that disbelieving, condescending way that people have of replying when they find out that you don’t know something that you should, she dropped out of character and, very baffled, said “You don’t know your own limits??”

Then the interrogator guy comes up to see what the hold-up and delay is all about, probably set to tear into his assistant for not expediting the prisoner-check-in process (because I’m sure she had HER orders from him) and she says to him “She doesn’t know her own limits.”

And then HE asks me and I have to admit to being a tool and say “I don’t know. I can’t answer. I can’t tell you.” and he gives me that same incredulous, god-yer-dumb look (or so I perceived)-

At that point, I started looking around for mah Man. I needed rescued, ffs. Neck-craning, looking for someone, ANYONE, to help. They also started peering around, probably not looking for my man but likely looking for someone to dump me on, lol.

Off to the side I spotted a girl who was involved in the whole scene and the planning of the scene and who would later be one of the executioners, but more importantly, she was a friend and she’d understand my dilemma because she knows us. So I waved her over and explained and without even batting an eyelash, she just nodded and took off to find the man. Which she did in just seconds, and he came over and he, also without batting an eyelash, when asked what MY limits were, turned to the people in charge, completely dismissing me and talked to them.

After that, it was fine.

Very likely I imagined the disdain. They were all perfectly nice people. I’m still embarrassed about it though.

When I was in the 5th grade we moved to a new town. We’d not been there long when school started. On the first day of class, we were all to line up at the teacher’s desk so she could record our home information in her little student log book. When she got to me, I absolutely blanked on my new phone number. She responded in that same way, “You don’t know your own phone number?” in front of the whole class who all looked at me like I was a total retard and I’ve never ever forgotten how embarrassing that day was, or how stupid I felt.

That whole limit-exchange was a repeat of that day. I was immediately taken back to being a nerdy little 5th grader, the new-kid, nervous, and all of my peers sniggering at my stupidity behind their hands.

On the other hand, the fact that I did blank out and couldn’t answer even to save face says something good about my enslavement, yes?

If not, tell me it does anyway, lol.

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