Jun 5, 2017 3 min read

I tripped down memory lane the other day. My friend Sandy and I grabbed a slice of pizza and decided to reminisce about days gone by. Our location insisted upon it. It was a favorite pizza joint from high school.

The conversation turned back time. All the way to our high school prom. It was a bygone era. We talked about the mishaps of the day.

My uncle offered to drive me downtown to pick up the tux, and he got into a fender bender on the way to Liberty Men’s Formals. No one was hurt in the crash, but it did delay us. I had to grab the tux and get home, before my friends picked me up. It was a harrowing adventure.

Once I got home, I shimmied into my suit. When I put on the pants, they were too big. I didn’t have time to return to the store and demand new pants! My mom cinched them up with several safety pins. When I danced at the prom, the pins would unclasp and jab me in the waist. I would fasten one and another would come undone. Pricked all night long. No one should be in pain while I “Let it Whip.” When I let out a “Yow!” during “Superfreak,” it was an actual cry for help.

I was like a live-action voodoo doll.

Side note: I forgot to mention my date looked fantastic in a lime-green dress. However, in an effort to match her outfit, I wore a light-green tux with a green ruffled tuxedo shirt. Green ruffles! Don’t judge me. It was the 80s.

Additional side note: The hair! This is back when I had a lot of it, but it was styled poorly. I had a shiny, black, bowl-cut hairdo. I looked like I went to a wedding on Vulcan.

Meanwhile, Sandy shared her own horror story about the prom. She went with a boy who had broken up with his longtime girlfriend, Amy. He wasn’t over her. They must have played Pure Prairie League’s one-hit wonder, “Amie,” a bajillion times that night. I kicked Sandy under the table every time they sang her name. When they got to “Amie, what you gonna do? I could stay with you for a while, maybe longer if I do,” Sandy had black and blue marks under her satiny dress.

Our prom musings were cut short. As we recalled the past, a bus-woman from the pizza joint decided to wash the windows. Instead of spraying the Windex on the paper towel and applying the towel to the door, she spritzed the door directly. Since I was sitting near the door, the blue spray ricocheted off the door and showered me and my slice of pizza. P.S. Luckily, glass cleaner does not count as an extra topping.

I guarded my lunch with my forearm, but I got a good dousing of Windex. I was laughing too hard to complain about it. Instead, I decided it was a column-worthy event, which leads us all right back here.

Next time you grab a slice with a good friend, don’t sit near any glass surfaces and you should be fine.