That time I went to school drunk

When I was growing up, being grounded was the most horrible thing my parents could do to me. Wait! I take that back. It’s the second worst thing my Mom and Stepdad could have done to me. Sending me to my Dad’s every other weekend was the worst. But I’ve told that story before. ;)

I remember this one time, at band camp, I went to school drunk. It was a Monday morning of my 10th grade year, and I just wanted to know if school would be more interesting or exciting or anything different, if I was drunk. I drank Seagrams and 7up while I was getting ready, and then drank it on the way to school. Finished it just as I was getting there, in time for first period.

First period is a complete blur. I don’t remember anything about that class. Have no idea how I made it to second period, but I did. And that is where I got caught. My English teacher wasn’t real keen on students not paying attention, and when I couldn’t stop giggling and talking real loud, someone ratted on me. To the office I went. They called my Mom to come pick me up, then told me I was going to be suspended for a whole week. I was really excited about having a week off school, but not real thrilled about the punishment that would come down from my parents.

Let me tell you something, when my parents said I was grounded for four weeks, let me guarantee you, I was grounded for four weeks. No television, no phone, no hanging out with friends after school or on the weekends. I saw nobody and talked to nobody. I was literally only allowed to go to school, nowhere else. At all. For four whole weeks. And to add to that punishment, I missed two huge tests in two different classes, which caused me to end up failing both classes and having to retake them in Summer School. Not my proudest moment.

As I watch my son make mistakes trying to figure out who he is and what he wants to do with his life, I’m reminded about the troubles I went through. RJ hasn’t lived with me since he was five years old, so I didn’t have to ground him for anything as he was growing up. However, I have friends/coworkers/other family members that I see try to discipline their children, only to ‘give in’ and allow them to get a reprieve on their punishment. I just shake my head in disappointment.

This is where our world has gone. Parents today would rather be their child’s friend than their parent. Nobody wants to punish children and teach them right from wrong anymore. They just want to be friends and let them do whatever they want to do.

And people wonder why Millenials are such a problem.
Ding, ding!

A blast from the past. Or was it?

So, the other day, I'm in an okay mood. It had been a really long day, and I was exhausted. I needed to get a prescription, so off to Urgent Care I went. (I'm a frequent patient at my regular doctors office for this exact reason. You'd think I would be on some sort of national list or something. Hmm. I’ll have to ask about that next time.) I went after work, so I got there about 6:25p. While I was checking in, the girl woman that was helping me, looked very familiar to me. I looked at her nametag in hopes of getting some sort of clue as to whom this person was and why she was so familiar, but no. Jennifer. It’s just too common. So, I kept my mouth shut and handed her my medical card. She did whatever she needed to do with it, and as she handed it back, she said, “I know you from somewhere. Where do I know you from? How do I know you? Do you remember me? I keep looking at you trying to figure it out, but it’s not coming to me. Darn it. Where do I know you from?”

Whew! She said ALL THAT in a matter of 2.5 seconds. I was already exhausted from a long day/week, and since I wasn’t about to keep up with her fast thinking and rapid speech, I again, kept my mouth shut. I politely said, “I don’t know. Could be from anywhere. I’ve lived in this town for 21 years so there are plenty of places we could have met. Perhaps SHS?” Immediately she said, “YES! That’s it! Has to be. I only went there for one year, but I’m certain that’s where I know you from.” I smiled as I thought back to my high school days, then quickly frowned. They weren’t my favorite four years. In fact, I think it’s safe to say I enjoyed living in Texas those four years much more than I enjoyed my four years of high school.

I walked away, went and sat down in one of those uncomfortable waiting room chairs that are so disgusting and full of other people’s gross germs, and picked up my phone. Sigh. No service. Boo. I waited and waited to be called into the room. I saw people before and after me, go in AND come out. wtf? Why wasn’t I being called? Mine was simple. I already knew what the prescription was I needed. No lab work was necessary (although they always waste the time/money by doing it).

All-0f-a-sudden, I hear her voice, echoing through the empty halls and the waiting room, as she says, “SHS choir! That’s where I know you from! Oh my gosh. Remember those horrible dresses?”

Now everyone in the waiting room was staring. My face was about 3 different shades of red, and all I wanted to tell this girl was to shut up. I wasn’t interested in taking a stroll down memory lane, but she was going to drag me down those dark allies, kicking and screaming, no matter how much I tried to avoid it.

I finally got called in to see the doc, but not a moment too soon. I was so afraid she was going to open up another door to my past that I had sealed shut. Whew.

a FACE, a VOICE or a GHOST?

I had this friend in high school, who liked me for who I was. He didn’t judge me. He didn’t avoid me when I was in a bad mood. He liked my attitude and often felt the same way I did about things. More times than not, actually. There was never anything physical between us. We simply were not in the relationship for anything other than ‘friends’. And we were great ones.

We laughed at people together. We talked shit about people together. We did things typical high school kids do (and that’s all I’m going to say about that). We passed notes between classes. We were never taking the same classes because he was 2 years behind me, but he was better at math than I was, so it worked out in my favor once when I needed my homework finished but didn’t know how to do it (cause I had been ditching that class all week).

During my senior year, there were many things to attend. Your last winter formal, your last homecoming game/dance, your last prom, graduation, etc. Those are things you want to experience with friends who are important in your life.

Winter formal, I did not attend. I’ve never been real interested in getting dressed up, especially in high school where all the girls (and guys) judged you by your attire. Homecoming, I attended the game, but not the dance. Again, not into dances. Prom, didn’t go. The word prom has so many hidden meanings and expectations in it’s 4 tiny little letters, that it can be overwhelming to some. As someone who was not into dressing up or going to dances, I found it hard to grasp my mind around the fact that we had THREE or FOUR “last” dances in high school. I certainly wasn’t dating someone at the time of prom that would make me want to live life that evening the way prom was meant to be lived, so it didn’t matter. To me, it was just another dance. Just another night to get dressed up. Graduation/Grad Night, I attended proudly, with a date. But not just any date. He was one of my bff’s. He was the one person who had stood by all my crap. The one who had listened to my every yelling session, or rant about a stupid teacher or the dumb jokes I’d make up about a relative of his (said person introduced us originally). I figured after all I had put him through, he was the one and only person I wanted to spend my graduation night with. That was 1996.

We lost touch after that evening. No more school to keep us in close contact. The days went by and our lives moved on, without each other. I moved out of state, and started a life I didn’t know I wanted. After four long years, I moved back and accidentally ran into him at the bank I was now going to be frequenting. Cool! I missed my bff. Our lives were so different by now, we never connected the same way. I saw him a handful of times when I would go inside the bank, but one day, I stopped going to that bank. That was 2001.

About a week and half ago, I made a comment to JK that I wanted bbq, and asked if we could go to Rattler’s for dinner. Him being the kind of guy he is, he didn’t object and we went. While sitting at our table, a guy walks up to our table and calls my name. I looked over at him, stared at him like I was looking at someone who’s arms and legs got switched around, and said, “Yes?”. He told me his name and acted like I was supposed to remember him, but I clearly didn’t. Once the “film” in my head had reached back to ‘95 & ‘96, I jumped out of the booth and gave him a hug. He seemed happy to see me, but after a 9 year absence, I wasn’t able to read him. I asked how he was and he told me where he was living. I was a bit saddened to hear he wasn’t nearby anymore, but Hollywood isn’t that far, right? I didn’t have my phone, so he took my number. That was 8 days ago.

He was someone I thought about often. I miss his friendship. I miss his witty and/or sarcastic remarks. I miss the hard time he used to give me for listening to country music. I miss the drawings he used to give me between classes, of hot girls with big boobs wearing short shorts and “shit kickers” and the big diamond ring he heard  mentioned in a song once. I would get drawings of the Kansas City Chiefs because I was a fan. We had a mutual friend that we used to make fun of and we had drawings of Congo. (Don’t bother. You’ll never figure it out.)

I hope he calls. I’m waiting patiently. I want to sit around and drink beer and tell stories and hear about how his life has been. I want to tell him about my experiences and some of the things I’ve seen he would have enjoyed and/or made fun of me for. He has changed his image a bit, so I’m wondering if he’s still working at a bank. I have so many questions, but no way to answer them.

JK keeps telling me he will call, but I’m not so certain. He would have called by now. He probably typed the number into his phone wrong, and has no other way to get in touch with me (other than frequenting Rattler’s as often as I do). We were too close for him to be waiting this long to call me.

Where is he?