Thursday, September 20, 2007

Denton Tall Tale #30

In high school I wasn’t very fond of extra curricular activities. My policy was to get in and get out, try to be as un-noticeable as possible, and leave no evidence behind. This meant no sports, no groups, and no dances. Definitely no dances. We had an in-school dance once and the majority of the gym broke out into a country line dance, and I swore from that day on I would never attend another high school dance as long as I was alive. I did not break that promise.

The only after-school activity I ever participated in was helping decorate for the senior prom. My art teacher had signed me up, and he was really nice to me, so I didn’t want to disappoint him.
Most schools have their proms in hotel ballrooms, or at the very least VFW lodges. We had ours in the gym. We would use construction paper, glue, and glitter, and turn that gym into a romantic oasis, where love would bloom, adolescents would become adults, and the most memorable nights of teenage lives would be created. Think “enchantment under the sea”. Despite helping to decorate, I did not attend this prom or any other prom, mainly because of the promise I had made myself a year earlier. Instead my friends picked me up at my house in their limousine afterward. They were all wearing their gowns and tuxedos, and I had on cargo shorts.

The only other experience I had with a high school dance was one year on my birthday. My mother decided I needed to eat at a nice restaurant sometime in my life and we drove a half hour to Easton, where the closest restaurant was. What we both failed to realize was that this night was the same night as homecoming, and since THIS was the closest restaurant, it was filled with young couples eating their pre-dance meals. The dining room was literally packed with kids from my high school, gazing into each others eyes, eating their romantic dinners, wondering where the night would take them……..and I was there with my mom.

3 comments:

urn said...

Sorry for leaving you hanging that night, I was pu$$y whipped by that ho from Frederick. So what happened after they picked you up? Was it Garcia y Vega time??

willie nelson said...

you know thats right.

Blog cabins aka Ricardo Jefferson said...

I went to fucking chicago that time.