I won’t write much about high school on this blog mainly because…a) it wouldn’t be very interesting for many of you and 2) I honestly don’t remember much about it. I mean, I remember good friends and SOME of the things we did, but honestly, not a lot. What is worse, is when I look at my high school year book, I just look at the photos and think “Who are these people? We actually went to school together?” Regardless, the only reason that I will post any high school memory is to illustrate a point of a different subject (or to try and embarrass some friend – whichever comes first and is more effective).
For example, I remember the late 80’s and early 90’s some authors came out with a relationship book titled “Men are from Mars and women are from Venus.” Admittedly, I never read the book, but from what I understand it is some sort of pseudo-psychological explanation of how men and women perceive each other and the world differently. In other words, just another schmaltzy, money-making scheme for the unsuspecting public that needs their hands held to get through the basics of life. Just the title alone makes it sound like wimpish drivel wrapped in a very “feel good” sort of way (shutter). I had a better and more accurate title which I maintain to this day -“Men are idiots and women are crazy.” This isn’t to be insulting to either men or women, but to be more accurately truthful and why? Because that IS the truth! And isn’t the truth the key to understanding and building a good relationship? The public doesn’t need the volumes of books that these academic con-artists sold. This isn’t rocket science. When a woman questions a man’s logic, she doesn’t give a dainty smile and say “oh my…what a silly, silly, little man” with hands on her hips, shake her head in a “June Cleaver” sort of way. No, instead she says “What are you doing? What an idiot! I can’t believe that he would do that!” And when she does get upset with a man, he never thinks “hmm…we seem to have a miscommunication here; perhaps I should stop what I am doing and try to analyze this from her point of view.” No, he says “What?! What’s the problem? Ahh…she’s crazy!” and continues on doing as he pleases. Having established this…let’s move on to a story to highlight what I’m talking about here.
In 1988 or 1989, I was at fencing practice one night and a friend of mine (we’ll call him “J”) who went to the other high school in town was seeing another friend (we’ll call her “D”) who went to my high school. So that night, during our break time, J tells me that he and D have been discussing the upcoming prom – where to go, what time, what to wear, etc. Now it is important to point out that J was one of these “on the fringe” sort of guys. A very intelligent and very talented young man, J was one who liked to stand out in a crowd as an individual and thumb his nose at the norm. His dream was be to wear a powder blue tuxedo with crushed velvet lapels and a ruffled shirt only to watch the reaction of people as he would walk in.
D, on the other hand, preferred the more classic style and really, really, REALLY wanted J wear a traditional tuxedo – black, with white, cummerbund, etc. I suppose I understand why. After all, many high school girls plan days like this way in advance. They see them in movies, they talk about them, they what it to go perfectly. Basically, they create the whole prom scenario before actually going to prom. Plus, the moment will be captured on film forever, so it’s best to “try to look nice” as my mother would say.
Anyway, J tells me that he and D have been discussing the “tux crisis” and then asks
“Can you do a favor for me?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“Well, you know that I told D that I wanted a purple tuxedo”
“Yeah”
“Ok, tell her that I won’t and that I finally decided on another tuxedo”
“Uh…ok”
“But tell her this…..” (giggle, giggle) and he unveiled his great plan.
So the next day, I go school and before the first class starts, I walked into Mr. Byron’s World History classroom to talk with friends and wait for D and carry out J’s instructions. Eventually, she came in with friends cheeringly chatting away about this and that. “Well this will be good” I thought “I’ll catch her in a good mood to deliver J’s little zinger” (chortle)
“Hey D! How’s it goin’? You know, I saw J last night and he asked me to pass a message to you” (laying the groundwork for this joke…)
“Really? What is it?”
“He said that he decided NOT to go with the lightening purple tux” (building up….)
Obviously relieved “Thank GAWD! That thing was just awful. I couldn’t imagine why he would…”
“Yeah, he said that it was a little too bright and neon for the occasion and instead he decided to go with the electric green tuxedo” (Ba dum bum! Cymbal crash! That was it kids. That was the entire gag! Not much a climatic joke, but remember this was high school)
And so I stood there with my punch line delivered and wearing a big goofy smile, I waiting for the anticipated, upset “girly” reaction. What I received instead was a bit more….overstated…than I expected.
D’s face transformed from morning cheeriness to disbelief to downright pissed off in a .824 of a second time span. “Hmmm…that’s not the reaction I thought it would be” I told myself. I was expecting more exasperation and complaint. D slowly lowered her head while her eyes narrowed, continuing to bore a disapproving glare into my eyes. All her facial muscles began to tighten up. Her jaw clenched locking her teeth into place. Perfectly motionless and without moving her lips “I beg your pardon” she slowly said “What did he do?” and quietly growled “tell me…that idiot did NOT get an electric green tuxedo”
Evidently oblivious to ALL the physical cues staring at me squarely in the face, I was not taking a hint that this is a joke going the wrong way. No, no, I continued to stand there grinning and thinking “man, is J going to get HIS today after school! I hope he likes to dance at this prom ‘cause she’s going to chew his ass out so hard, he won’t be able to sit down for months!” Instead, what I should have been thinking was “do you really want to poke a sleeping bear in the eye with a pointed stick so early in the morning? Perhaps you should just leave well enough alone”
“Yeah, he said that the electric green tuxedo would look better with the white patent leather shoes he is planning on wearing and wanted to know what you would wear…you know…to compliment this ensemble” (giggle, giggle, poke, poke) “He was thinking something in hot pink – you know, kinda like Crocket and Tubs from Miami Vice”
And now the situation becomes more interesting. The glaring motionless routine, slowly began to transform into something girlishly hideous as D began tremble with the emotional buildup began to come to a boil. Her face turned red, her fists clenched so hard as to draw blood out of her palms and her eyes began to water up. A bit confused and alarmed, I then realized that the line of “good sense” that I had crossed….is like…a mile behind me. “Oh no! wait…” I panicked as it became apparent that I have used a gasoline canister of high school ”puckishness” and a box of “boyish shenanigans” to light a fire under and emotional pressure cooker with the lid about to blow off and I have nowhere to run. 3…2…1…BOOM!! ”NOOOOOO!! BBWWHHHAAAAAAA” her voice bellowed from the far wall, ricocheting off the three other walls and then echoing into the hallway as she bolted out of the door, running and crying down the corridor to the girls’ restroom.
Now, I’m not qualified to speak about intricacies of physics, nor do I know if there is a particular “law” named for this sort action (i.e. Law of Relativity, Law of Gravity, Law of Emotional Outburst, whatever) but evidently the heartbreaking cries of an emotionally distressed teenage girl running out of a room creates a sort of metaphysical vacuum that actually sucks sound out of a room leaving whatever and whoever is behind in a void in the time-space continuum. DEAD silence. I could have dropped a brick in that room and it wouldn’t have made a sound and even if it did no one would have heard or paid attention to it as all conversation ceased and eyes shot back and forth between D running out the door and me standing there paralyzed in complete disbelief at what had just happened.
Just as bewildered and shocked as I was on the events that dramatically unfolded in front of the entire class, the questions began.
“What was that all about?”
“I..I..I… don’t know”
“What did you say to her?”
“I…I…just told her a joke”
“What the hell sort of joke did you tell her?!”
“It…it...it…was just….a joke”
“Not a very funny one”
“What’s going on here? What happened?” Mr. Byron called out from behind his desk
“Nothing! Nothing at all!” I timidly called back “when is that bell going to ring?” muttering to myself
“But did you say? Why did she run out crying?”
“I just told her a joke…about her boyfriend”
“Some joke if it brought her to tears”
By this time, high school students being what they are, sensed that a fellow student was in trouble and seized the moment to join in the attack like a school of sharks feeding off of a floundering tuna. My head spinning from left to right trying to provide a rebuttal of the comments. My hands waving in the air as to deflect and defend myself.
“Dude, what happened? What did you say?”
“Nothing…wait…nothing…it was just a joke”
“Yeah, right…whatever. Nice going!”
“Hey, hey, hey!..Look, I was just delivering a message”
“What the hell sort of message was it? Did he break up with her and you were the one to tell her?”
“No, no! not that sort of message….it was just a harmless prank”
“Harmless? Yeah, right…dude, she ran out of here CRYING!”
“Look, it was just a joke!” I insisted
“Ok, ok, whatever you say. Know any more good jokes? Like maybe about POWs or concentration camps or something as equally “humorous”?”
“Seriously, it was just a joke about her boyfriend’s tuxedo for prom”
“Oh please! Like she would burst into tears over something like that”
“She would! She did!”
“So why would you do something like that?”
“Like WHAT?! Like I KNEW this would happen? I didn’t do it on purpose! How was I to know that she would freak out about his tux?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…see you at the improv on open mic night”
And the bell rang (finally)
I saw J later that day and he immediately asked
“so did you tell her?” grinning and waiting to hear about her reaction
“yes, yes I did”
“what did she do?”
“What did she do?! She went all “nutty” on me! She had a meltdown before school started and ran out of the room crying. What the hell was that all about?”
“No!” incredulously with eyes widening
“Yeah, why didn’t you tell that she was SO upset about this? No one believed that it was because of the tux.”
So in conclusion...J’s plan was to make an outrageous claim to D, knowing that she wouldn’t accept it (although not knowing that she would break into hysterics upon hearing it), and that he would then counteroffer with something more acceptable…like Cat in the Hat socks and a walking stick or something to the effect. Pretty good plan actually. They did go prom and I don’t remember anymore crying.
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