Punctuality is one of those pain in the ass virtues people have that get in the way of having fun. I happen to own the trademark on that particular pain in the ass virtue. Never, in my life, have I been late if I could help it. I would rather be early and look like an idiot while waiting for others to show than be late for an appointment, class, anything. It was, then, a big deal when I found myself running late for my class this afternoon. And not just minorly late, mind you, an entire half hour late. It was another one of those brilliantly cloudy afternoons, completely unexpected when you would have been expecting the sun to be shining on you in full force and the sweat to be flowing as you wait for the bus to arrive. Before I knew it, I had been standing out there staring at the people frolicking in the waves and dodging the odd gust of wind blowing sand in my face for nearly twenty minutes. I didn't really need to check my watch to know that this was a bad, bad sign. I was, after months of a perfect attendance, going to be spectacularly late for class. And it felt good. Rebellion is liberating somehow, like a step right out of the rat race for a minute to smell some flowers growing by the track.

The bus arrived, of course, it always does eventually. I got on, paid up and stared out the window as the world flew by in a blur of colors and shapes. I arrived at my stop and, with deliberate leisure, got a can of coke from the gas station. Stopping to contemplate why an empty playground filled with swings and slides should strike me as so very sad, I walked on in that curious mixture of knowing where I was going and that I had to get there inevitably, but exactly when did not matter. Freedom tastes like rebellion that's been left out in the sun too long, an odd but at the time appropriate thought.

I finally got to my university, can of coke in one hand, bag swinging in the other. I make no eye contact here, not with anyone. The can had served its purpose and so was gently deposited on a wall nearby. I walked into the lab where my class was in full force. I was... late. Everyone turned to stare at the new arrival. The teacher looked at me, the clock, then back at me and frowned slightly as he gestured towards an empty seat. I sat down and got to work. I couldn't help checking the automated attendance records for one last peek at my perfect record (thus far). Attendance had not been entered for the day.

Even as the class typed on furiously to complete their work, I sat back and logged on to various websites for no reason. At the end of the day, I have two lines of generic, utterly half-hearted code while the others proudly displayed whole programs and algorithms to the teacher. I sat back and watched as the teacher graded each assignment. The very second the clock struck six, the class of twenty dispersed in their own directions like a puff of smoke. I couldn't resist sneaking a peek at the attendance sheet for the day. A row of perfect blue "P"s, and right at the bottom, yet another accursed bold, blue "P".