Friday, April 2 & Saturday, April 3

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About this site:
In 1993, I spent the year writing in a blank datebook from 1954. Now, in 2010, I'm posting each page on the web and writing about it. You may want to start at the beginning.

1954: April 2-3

Tori was a couple years younger than me, and I had this weird attraction-repulsion thing with her. She was frequently hyper to the point of being a spaz, but I found her attractive anyway. We messed around casually a couple times before life diverged our paths.

I loved the idea of the freshman class board brainstorming "new ideas on how to end the school year." Like, as opposed to finals, or what?

As I teased a couple days ago, B.A.S.H. and S.E.A.L. were mortal enemies. The antagonization came to a head at the Earth Day festival held at the high school on Saturday. While S.E.A.L. got all earnest inside, distributing pamphlets about vivisection, B.A.S.H. set up a Smoky Joe outside and sold hotdogs and hamburgers to attendees, proffered on paper plates with silly slogans and cartoons on them (many by Brandon).

I spent Saturday night at Mike's house. His parents were often out of town (his dad was a salesman on the road a lot, and they had a house on Marco Island, Florida), so Mike and his older sister were often given free run of the house. My parents didn't know this, of course -- they just knew I had never gotten in trouble when I was over there. I "slept over" at Mike's a number of times as cover for some other thing I was up to. (Sorry, mom and dad.)

On this particular evening, a bunch of people were over and we were having a good time down in the basement, which was pretty much his domain. Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang. We weren't expecting anyone, so it was a big surprise when we opened to door to find my brother Pete and his friend Pat. They were both freshmen, and apparently had been drinking beer by the middle school a few blocks away. The cops rousted them from there, and Pete remembered I was nearby. The only trouble was, he'd never been to Mike's house -- so he and Pat wandered the neighborhood, obviously tipsy, ringing doorbells and asking whoever answered if they knew where Mike lived.

This of course sent everyone into hysterics, convinced the police would be showing up at any minute, sent there by some concerned (or annoyed) adult. The house was made to look unoccupied above ground, and the vague paranoia of teenaged partiers took hold for awhile. Eventually, it was determined that the coast was clear, and we got back to partying. It was one of the few times that year that Pete and I hung out together and got along well.

Pete and Pat spent the night there along with me, and accompanied Mike, Chad, me and a couple other people at Denny's the next morning to tend to our hangovers.

The irony of Pat's quote in the middle of this page is that he ended up puking all over the coffee table in the living room in the middle of the night.

1 Comment

Geez, everytime I see blogs this good I just want mine to be there already! :) Great work.

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About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Andrew Huff published on April 2, 2010 4:39 PM.

Wednesday, March 31 & Thursday, April 1 was the previous entry in this blog.

Sunday, April 4 & Monday, April 5 is the next entry in this blog.

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