The Straw That Stirs the Drink
They don't make TV shows about high schools like mine.
My alma mater was a private, Christian, all-girl school whose population was 401 students the year that I graduated. Our headmistress, Mother Johnson, was a nun whose mission in life was to raise us all to be “proper young ladies” - a noble task, certainly, but one that was nearly impossible to fulfill, especially in graduation year.
Mother Johnson had firm, yet old fashioned, ideas about how our grad party should proceed. In addition to a daughter/father waltz at the end of the formal dinner, we were all required to have grad dates.
I spent months freaking out about this particular requirement - where was I supposed to find a grad date? I had no brothers, and the few boys I did know were likely to thoroughly embarrass me before the first course was served. But, if I didn’t have a date, I wouldn’t be allowed to attend my own grad - an event I had been looking forward to since my first year of high school!
For her shyer girls, Mother Johnson had a list of appropriate males that would fill the role of escort, and rumour had it that they were very attractive. But I wasn’t quite that desperate. In the end my friend Patricia helped me out. Her boyfriend had a good friend named David who would be willing to go with me.
Grad weekend approached. The evening was to begin with cocktails in the parlour of the high school (yes, we had a PARLOUR), followed by a fancy dinner at a downtown hotel with our parents. After dinner was where the real fun would begin. We had a bus to transport us from party to party across town.
My date was ok - very handsome in his tuxedo and he had an Australian accent that made every girl’s heart go pitter patter, but aside from the cool accent, he didn’t really rock my world. I much preferred hanging out with my girlfriends. But for the beginning of the bus trip at least, we both felt obliged to sit next to each other. The bus was fancy - a Greyhound type with plush seats and a bathroom. David and I sat near Patricia and her boyfriend near the back.
Within a few moments of the bus taking off, the drinking began. Legal drinking age in Quebec is 18, but the usual age of a high school graduate is only 17. Combine that with the fact that alcohol on a moving bus is illegal at ANY age, and you will find some very creative methods of imbibing. Most of us mixed some rum or vodka into 750 ml soft drink bottles and pretended they held just soda. At the various parties off the bus, the hosts provided non alcoholic drinks. People remedied that situation quickly by sneaking flasks into the room and stirring a little of the hooch into the plastic cups of whoever wanted it.
I think many of us could think back to our younger days and realize that even in the best circumstances, teenagers are unbalanced, hormonal whack-jobs. Throw some illegal alcohol into the mix, and you definitely have a recipe for disaster.
During the course of the night, I found out some interesting information. My date David, and my friend Nancy had met a few weeks prior and really liked each other, but Nancy had already asked her ex-boyfriend Charlie to be her date. Nancy and Charlie had dated for nearly two years, but broke up about a month before grad. Because Charlie was still madly in love with Nancy, he agreed to remain her date in the hopes that they could rekindle what they had lost. Nancy didn’t want to miss out on the big grad weekend, so she was happy to bring her ex along. She had no idea that she would meet her next great love at a house party mere weeks before the event. Patricia and her boyfriend had told David that I was not looking for a romantic encounter, but rather just someone with whom I could dance one dance at the graduation dinner. It was a really good thing that I meant what I said.
Quite late into the night at a party at a rented hall, I was outside with a couple of girlfriends, smoking a cigarette when Charlie came weaving my way. One glance told me that he had had at least a couple too many rum and cokes.
“Have you seen Nancy?” he asked us. We all shook our heads. “Can you tell her I’m looking for her if you do?” I had to take pity on him. I offered to help him look for her.
As we walked towards the nearby park, Charlie extolled the virtues of Nancy - how funny, beautiful, sweet, smart, etc. she was. I said nothing, because I had a strong suspicion as to what was going on. As we approached the swings, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted some movement in the bushes nearby. I told Charlie to wait at the swings while I investigated. My suspicions proved correct - Nancy and David were in the midst of a heavy make out session. I swallowed my discomfort and interrupted them. They sprung apart guiltily when they saw me and started to try to stutter out apologies. I had no patience for them.
“I really don’t care what you guys do - David, I’ve known you for like 2 hours. But Nancy, Charlie is right out there, and he still has strong feelings for you. You said that you wanted to still be friends, but do you think you are treating him properly right now? And do you know who’s going to suffer if he finds out about this? Me - that’s who! Once this weekend is over, the two of you can do whatever you want wherever you want, but right now? Nancy you’re with Charlie, and David, you’re with me! So wipe the lipstick off your face and get out of here!”
While David took a very roundabout route back to the party, Nancy and I emerged from the bushes with a very vague and convoluted story about falling asleep in the bushes. Thanks to the wonders of Captain Morgan, Charlie believed us without question. Through the combined efforts of our entire group of friends, we were able to keep Charlie from finding out anything about Nancy and David’s involvement.
My grad weekend was a lot of fun, and my first experience without any limits set to me. But I can’t help but think that David’s presence provided a lot of unnecessary angst. I just know it would have been more fun if I hadn’t brought a date.
***
This week is another intersection week, and I worked with the wonderful copyright1983! His entry is hyperlinked above, and in case you missed it, here.
My alma mater was a private, Christian, all-girl school whose population was 401 students the year that I graduated. Our headmistress, Mother Johnson, was a nun whose mission in life was to raise us all to be “proper young ladies” - a noble task, certainly, but one that was nearly impossible to fulfill, especially in graduation year.
Mother Johnson had firm, yet old fashioned, ideas about how our grad party should proceed. In addition to a daughter/father waltz at the end of the formal dinner, we were all required to have grad dates.
I spent months freaking out about this particular requirement - where was I supposed to find a grad date? I had no brothers, and the few boys I did know were likely to thoroughly embarrass me before the first course was served. But, if I didn’t have a date, I wouldn’t be allowed to attend my own grad - an event I had been looking forward to since my first year of high school!
For her shyer girls, Mother Johnson had a list of appropriate males that would fill the role of escort, and rumour had it that they were very attractive. But I wasn’t quite that desperate. In the end my friend Patricia helped me out. Her boyfriend had a good friend named David who would be willing to go with me.
Grad weekend approached. The evening was to begin with cocktails in the parlour of the high school (yes, we had a PARLOUR), followed by a fancy dinner at a downtown hotel with our parents. After dinner was where the real fun would begin. We had a bus to transport us from party to party across town.
My date was ok - very handsome in his tuxedo and he had an Australian accent that made every girl’s heart go pitter patter, but aside from the cool accent, he didn’t really rock my world. I much preferred hanging out with my girlfriends. But for the beginning of the bus trip at least, we both felt obliged to sit next to each other. The bus was fancy - a Greyhound type with plush seats and a bathroom. David and I sat near Patricia and her boyfriend near the back.
Within a few moments of the bus taking off, the drinking began. Legal drinking age in Quebec is 18, but the usual age of a high school graduate is only 17. Combine that with the fact that alcohol on a moving bus is illegal at ANY age, and you will find some very creative methods of imbibing. Most of us mixed some rum or vodka into 750 ml soft drink bottles and pretended they held just soda. At the various parties off the bus, the hosts provided non alcoholic drinks. People remedied that situation quickly by sneaking flasks into the room and stirring a little of the hooch into the plastic cups of whoever wanted it.
I think many of us could think back to our younger days and realize that even in the best circumstances, teenagers are unbalanced, hormonal whack-jobs. Throw some illegal alcohol into the mix, and you definitely have a recipe for disaster.
During the course of the night, I found out some interesting information. My date David, and my friend Nancy had met a few weeks prior and really liked each other, but Nancy had already asked her ex-boyfriend Charlie to be her date. Nancy and Charlie had dated for nearly two years, but broke up about a month before grad. Because Charlie was still madly in love with Nancy, he agreed to remain her date in the hopes that they could rekindle what they had lost. Nancy didn’t want to miss out on the big grad weekend, so she was happy to bring her ex along. She had no idea that she would meet her next great love at a house party mere weeks before the event. Patricia and her boyfriend had told David that I was not looking for a romantic encounter, but rather just someone with whom I could dance one dance at the graduation dinner. It was a really good thing that I meant what I said.
Quite late into the night at a party at a rented hall, I was outside with a couple of girlfriends, smoking a cigarette when Charlie came weaving my way. One glance told me that he had had at least a couple too many rum and cokes.
“Have you seen Nancy?” he asked us. We all shook our heads. “Can you tell her I’m looking for her if you do?” I had to take pity on him. I offered to help him look for her.
As we walked towards the nearby park, Charlie extolled the virtues of Nancy - how funny, beautiful, sweet, smart, etc. she was. I said nothing, because I had a strong suspicion as to what was going on. As we approached the swings, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted some movement in the bushes nearby. I told Charlie to wait at the swings while I investigated. My suspicions proved correct - Nancy and David were in the midst of a heavy make out session. I swallowed my discomfort and interrupted them. They sprung apart guiltily when they saw me and started to try to stutter out apologies. I had no patience for them.
“I really don’t care what you guys do - David, I’ve known you for like 2 hours. But Nancy, Charlie is right out there, and he still has strong feelings for you. You said that you wanted to still be friends, but do you think you are treating him properly right now? And do you know who’s going to suffer if he finds out about this? Me - that’s who! Once this weekend is over, the two of you can do whatever you want wherever you want, but right now? Nancy you’re with Charlie, and David, you’re with me! So wipe the lipstick off your face and get out of here!”
While David took a very roundabout route back to the party, Nancy and I emerged from the bushes with a very vague and convoluted story about falling asleep in the bushes. Thanks to the wonders of Captain Morgan, Charlie believed us without question. Through the combined efforts of our entire group of friends, we were able to keep Charlie from finding out anything about Nancy and David’s involvement.
My grad weekend was a lot of fun, and my first experience without any limits set to me. But I can’t help but think that David’s presence provided a lot of unnecessary angst. I just know it would have been more fun if I hadn’t brought a date.
***
This week is another intersection week, and I worked with the wonderful copyright1983! His entry is hyperlinked above, and in case you missed it, here.