My Life, The Soap Opera Part 1
(Please note I have changed the names in this story - though, if Bill or Katie came across this blog, they would immediately recognize themselves. And both would probably hunt me down. Ah well, what is life without a little risk?)
This afternoon, much to my surprise, I found myself sharing stories of my highschool days with a co-worker. I don't talk about my highschool years much. Mostly, because they resemble a badly written soap opera. If they weren't honest-to-goodness truth, they would be the worst fiction ever.
Like my senior prom date.
I went to prom with a manic depressive young man with a black belt in karate. If that combination doesn't give you nightmares tonight - it darn well should.
For the purposes of my story, I shall call him Bill. Whenever I think of Bill, I remember a conversation we had while eating at Taco Bell. Bill declared that if anyone entered the premises with a machine gun and began taking out the other customers, he would not be afraid to take a few bullets, and, with his martial arts expertise, he would most likely be able to exact a fatal revenge on the attackers for me. Now, you tell me which is more frightening: the fact that Bill believed that young men with machine guns would raid a random Taco Bell - OR - that Bill actually had attained the level of martial arts expertise that enabled him to permanently maim and/or kill? (I watched some of the competitions he entered - and the kid had talent).
Maybe this is the place where I should add that my mother wouldn't let me go to the prom without a date - and, believe it or not, this gentleman was the best choice. (Oddly enough, when I went to college, I met Bill's exact opposite - who promised that if anyone attacked me while we were on a date, he would like to think that maybe he might run for help - but that is another story.)
Not only did Bill serve as MY prom date, he also escorted a mutual friend, whose name was Katie. I could honestly do an entire blog filled with stories about this woman - but for now, suffice it to say, Katie was one of those individuals who was severely overweight and in absolute denial about her appearance - which, unfortunately, led to a very cruel prank being played on her. She had a crush on the quarterback of the football team - and I'll be damned if Mr. Quarterback didn't find out about it somehow - and he asked her to prom.
I could hear the train whistle - but I couldn't get off the tracks.
Needless to say, the night before prom (after Katie had purchased her tickets and dress), Mr. Quarterback dumped her. Enter me, enter Bill, and enter Katie - who claimed every third song was "their song" and promptly burst into tears. And, believe it or not, it gets BETTER.
Katie's dad had a friend in the limo business, and he arranged for us to have a limo for a discounted price. The limo driver would take us to prom, and then he would take other jobs, rather than waiting around for us. When we were ready to leave, we simply needed to call him, and he would pick us up once he finished whatever job he was on.
Mr. Limo Driver showed up in a purple sweat suit. (I have access to video footage, if you doubt me.) Unfortunately for us, in addition to his fatally crippled fashion sense, Mr. Limo Driver was having personal issues, and he shared all sorts of interesting facts with us - including that he was in the midst of a divorce and had been unable to sleep for several days. I am proud to say prom night is the same night that I learned a limo can, indeed, make a high-speed U-turn on a two-lane street - provided that the driver is hopped up on energy meds and has absolutely no respect for traffic laws.
Suffice it to say, I am one of those few individuals who probably would have been better off missing my Senior Prom and always wondering what it would have been like. To add insult to injury, a few days later the limo company tried to bill us for over $300. It turned out that Mr. Limo Driver chose to wait for us (instead of working other jobs, per the original agreement), and so the limo company was charging us full price. We disputed the bill and refused to pay.
But, hey! Since all stories deserve a happy ending. . .
It turns out Mr. Limo Driver had a nervous breakdown shortly thereafter and was committed to an insane asylum - so the limo company approached us with a new deal: all charges for past limo services would be dropped in exchange for a promise not to sue the limo company.
Our limo was FREE. How cool is that!?
This afternoon, much to my surprise, I found myself sharing stories of my highschool days with a co-worker. I don't talk about my highschool years much. Mostly, because they resemble a badly written soap opera. If they weren't honest-to-goodness truth, they would be the worst fiction ever.
Like my senior prom date.
I went to prom with a manic depressive young man with a black belt in karate. If that combination doesn't give you nightmares tonight - it darn well should.
For the purposes of my story, I shall call him Bill. Whenever I think of Bill, I remember a conversation we had while eating at Taco Bell. Bill declared that if anyone entered the premises with a machine gun and began taking out the other customers, he would not be afraid to take a few bullets, and, with his martial arts expertise, he would most likely be able to exact a fatal revenge on the attackers for me. Now, you tell me which is more frightening: the fact that Bill believed that young men with machine guns would raid a random Taco Bell - OR - that Bill actually had attained the level of martial arts expertise that enabled him to permanently maim and/or kill? (I watched some of the competitions he entered - and the kid had talent).
Maybe this is the place where I should add that my mother wouldn't let me go to the prom without a date - and, believe it or not, this gentleman was the best choice. (Oddly enough, when I went to college, I met Bill's exact opposite - who promised that if anyone attacked me while we were on a date, he would like to think that maybe he might run for help - but that is another story.)
Not only did Bill serve as MY prom date, he also escorted a mutual friend, whose name was Katie. I could honestly do an entire blog filled with stories about this woman - but for now, suffice it to say, Katie was one of those individuals who was severely overweight and in absolute denial about her appearance - which, unfortunately, led to a very cruel prank being played on her. She had a crush on the quarterback of the football team - and I'll be damned if Mr. Quarterback didn't find out about it somehow - and he asked her to prom.
I could hear the train whistle - but I couldn't get off the tracks.
Needless to say, the night before prom (after Katie had purchased her tickets and dress), Mr. Quarterback dumped her. Enter me, enter Bill, and enter Katie - who claimed every third song was "their song" and promptly burst into tears. And, believe it or not, it gets BETTER.
Katie's dad had a friend in the limo business, and he arranged for us to have a limo for a discounted price. The limo driver would take us to prom, and then he would take other jobs, rather than waiting around for us. When we were ready to leave, we simply needed to call him, and he would pick us up once he finished whatever job he was on.
Mr. Limo Driver showed up in a purple sweat suit. (I have access to video footage, if you doubt me.) Unfortunately for us, in addition to his fatally crippled fashion sense, Mr. Limo Driver was having personal issues, and he shared all sorts of interesting facts with us - including that he was in the midst of a divorce and had been unable to sleep for several days. I am proud to say prom night is the same night that I learned a limo can, indeed, make a high-speed U-turn on a two-lane street - provided that the driver is hopped up on energy meds and has absolutely no respect for traffic laws.
Suffice it to say, I am one of those few individuals who probably would have been better off missing my Senior Prom and always wondering what it would have been like. To add insult to injury, a few days later the limo company tried to bill us for over $300. It turned out that Mr. Limo Driver chose to wait for us (instead of working other jobs, per the original agreement), and so the limo company was charging us full price. We disputed the bill and refused to pay.
But, hey! Since all stories deserve a happy ending. . .
It turns out Mr. Limo Driver had a nervous breakdown shortly thereafter and was committed to an insane asylum - so the limo company approached us with a new deal: all charges for past limo services would be dropped in exchange for a promise not to sue the limo company.
Our limo was FREE. How cool is that!?
posted by Andrea Peach | 9:13 PM
1 Comments:
In a effort to save you heartache while still private....use initials or nicknames when you talk about people.
Post a Comment
<< Home