Risky Business...in the zendo

There were a couple of times, during sesshin, when I was the only one in the zendo. The first time it happened, I was a little bitter. I walked down the stairs to the zendo and saw that there was not even one pair of shoes on the shoe rack.
"Really?" I said to myself in a high pitched squeaky voice. "Really? I am the only one sitting zazen, during sesshin?!"
I took off my shoes and walked down the gaitan; pretty sure that somehow, someone else would be in there. I stepped my three steps in, bowed, and raised my head to see that, in fact, I was the only one in the zendo.
So, I did what any child of the eighties would do: I turned the corner, ran three steps, and slid across the hardwood floor in my socks. I didn't sing: "Just take those old records off the shelf," I wasn't in boxers, and I definitely did not look as cool as Tom Cruise but I had fun- childhood fun.
It lightened up some resentment I was feeling at the time, and a few minutes later, two other people showed up to sit.
The next day, the same opportunity presented itself: I was the first one in the zendo again and I was pretty sure no one would see me if I ran and slid. But it just didn't feel right: the thrill of doing something slightly forbidden, the risk of being seen, had passed. It was just a zendo the second time, I was just a sitter who showed up early.