(no subject)
Sitting in IHOP at midnight on a Thursday - there were two couples here when I arrived and it was blessedly silent. That lasted a few minutes, until a horde of gothy college students arrived. There are five girls and six boys, with only one trench coat amongst them. Seven black shirts. Two red shirts. One purple blouse. And one football jersey, on a big, clueless guy.
One of the girls made a big deal on the way in about how glad she is she can get her shoes on today for the first time since The Incident. The Incident - which was then relived in excruciating detail - involved somebody dropping an open blade on her foot at a party. The best line from that whole reenactment - by Mr. Football Jersey - was, “Well, I remember seeing you bleeding, but that is all I remember.” A friend kindly pointed out that Mr. Football Jersey was really, really drunk by the time that all happened. It was never made clear exactly who dropped the knife, but I am betting the guilty party is sitting at that table.
It’s funny to be across the room, watching them interact. They are obviously a interdependent social group, with inside jokes and well-mapped roles. As they trooped in, I felt a little alone - last time I shared an IHOP with a gaggle of gothy teenagers, I was sitting in their midst (probably in my own red tee-shirt and saucy attitude). I can relate to what I see - I even have my own story about an idiot teenage boy dropping an open butterfly knife on me [it sliced between the seam on my jeans and my actual skin, no harm done. If you ever wondered why I spent a few years routinely disarming all those boys (and why they let me), now you know].
Observing this crowd fuss (“Chantel, can I throw this at your boyfriend?” / “My fork has been violated.” / “Breathe, Melanie, breathe!” / “You have been fruited!” / “I plead the fifth!” / “He taught his dog to use a chainsaw.”), brag about their WoW prowess, fling food at each other, and describe the past week in a way calculated to emphasize their anti-establishment tendencies, leaves me gently laughing. We were there, and I miss that casual, comfortable sense of self-in-community, but I don’t miss the chaos and drama. And I wouldn’t be a teenager again for a million bucks.