Tuesday, July 19, 2011

It's way more fun to be stupid with friends

Sometimes a funny friend memory or two crosses my mind - my friends and I have laughed long and loud over the years.  At our own expense and at the expense of others.  There have been some fine examples of jackassery – the sort you don’t put on your resume but giggle about over and over again.  Welcome to Jackassery with Friends – Vol. 1.

A friend is someone who will bail you out of jail. A best friend is the one sitting next to you saying “boy was that fun.”

My late friend, Rona and I, had no problem finding stupid things to do.  Remember the floating steering wheel?  Well, that was discovered when we – uh, were not in class and doing things we shouldn’t.  Driving back to school, she noticed the steering wheel – rising and falling as if by magic. We were mesmerized, which is not a good thing when you’re doing 45 down Randolph Road during the school day. Thank goodness for a laid back teacher who told us that the little lever/lock thingy (reasonably sure those were not his words) was broken.  He shook his head and laughed at us. He never told on us. We laughed about this for years. Often while doing other stupid things. We were slow learners.

Another time, I TP’d a teacher’s house after seeing my first – and only - slasher movie (the original Friday the 13th).  I was with a group of “friends” who were pretty new to me – and much cooler. Note: I hate slasher movies – but went because I was hoping to be part of the crowd.  While throwing a roll, I stepped on something, looked down and saw an axe. I screamed like a 9-year old and may have wet my pants. Cover was totally blown and I never became real friends with any of those people. I was so not cool. Still not cool.

My first car was a ’69 Plymouth Valiant. I drove across the street to L’s driveway and honked and waited. She was always running late. We then drove the ½ mile to school.  I don’t know what makes me a bigger jackass – driving the 20’ into her driveway and honking for her or the fact that I insisted I had to drive to school.  That car could drive itself to both Georgetown and the beach. Many a Saturday night found L and I in Georgetown – probably at Winston’s on M Street. That car was like a mobile apartment and we were outstanding hostesses. Drives to the beach were an adventure – flirted with a truck driver who signaled for us to pull over and gave us a 6-pack.  Drove to Ocean City after graduation with the windows covered with super elastic bubble plastic bubbles (c’mon you remember that stuff.)  A small square was left clear in my front window for me to see.  My memory is a wee bit hazy from that drive and I’m not entirely sure who was in the car with me – but it was packed.  The nice police officer was not amused and warned us to follow the rules for the rest of the drive. Phew! Would have had a hard time explaining that to my dad. 

Yes, my friends and I grew up and recognized that teenage jackassery is incredibly stupid and we were incredibly lucky.  It was still pretty fucking funny though.  Still makes me laugh.  Good friends, good times.

No comments:

Post a Comment

YOur comments and/or story about your Big Susan are most welcome but don't hide behind "anonymous". If you have something to say - by all means say it - but stand behind your comment with a recognizable name.