The 58 and 1/2 Minute Gap
I’m a very logical person, and I believe most things can be explained through science, but I’ve had a few experiences that I’ve had trouble explaining to myself–moments my body tells me has happened, but my mind tells me should not have. I guess, according to sixpence, they’re called “glitches”.
As I said, I’ve had a few of these experiences, but most of them have been fractions of seconds long. I’m not superstitious or overtly paranoid, but last summer, on a cruise with two of my cousins around my age, something happened that I haven’t quite been able to shake.
It was our second night on the ship, and we thought it would be funny to run around causing havoc, in a real “Leonardo Decaprio sticking it to the upper class in Titanic” sort of way. We found our way to the richer levels, and laughed our way down elaborate hallways with beautiful lighting. While walking (or rather, stomping) we discovered that each door had a doorbell. These halls were different from the rest of the ship in that they were long and dead-ended. This meant that when we decided to ding-dong-ditch everyone, it required that one person stand at the end of the hall, then sprint to the two waiting at the exit while slamming their hands on each doorbell. After much discussion, we decided that my boy cousin was faster than both of us, and would be less likely to get caught.
After a few seconds of preparation, my cousin and I danced on our feet, watching him speed through the halls, itching to run from our self-inflicted trouble. When he got to the end, a large man stuck his head out of his fancy door, and after watching us giggling and pressing more doorbells, decided to chase us. There aren’t many places to hide if you get caught on a boat, so an unspoken consensus was made that we would need to run fast enough to not be recognized.
We sprinted down levels and levels of stairs, until we reached a landing with no where to go, except for into the endless hallways. Now the hallways were set up so that if you kept running in one direction, you would go in circles, but each landing had an exit to the left and an exit to the right. We knew we had a few seconds to debate which way to go, but for the first time that night, I disagreed with them. I thought it would be more faster to get to our room if we went to the left, and they thought the same of the right. We didn’t have time to debate and agree, because we soon heard yells and stomps from the stairs in front of us. Without thinking, we split up. I pulled out my timer, just to prove without a doubt that my way was faster, and began sprinting, quickly finding my way towards our room. My timer, which I screenshotted, said 1 minute, 34 seconds. I entered the room smugly, convinced I had beat them.
When I saw my cousins talking closely when I entered, I was disappointed. When they saw me, they were shocked. They had been discussing what to say to my grandma about me getting caught by the man. To them I had been gone for over an hour. To me and my phone, I had been gone for 1 minute, 34 seconds.
The next half hour was spent debating how long I was gone, the games with the doorbells before were completely forgotten.
Everything except for my timer and my mind tell me that they were right, but I know what my phone says, and I know I would not have been able to continuously sprint for over an hour.
That night I lay awake, trying to convince myself that they were right, but I knew how long I had run for, and so I kept asking myself: where was I for the other 58 and ½ minutes?