I wrote a post a while back about high school. I don't know if it's the bells starting to ring again this fall, ushering the return to school, but I had high school on the mind again this week.
I had a great time in high school, but it's not like it was a complete cakewalk. Not at all. I wasn't popular... I was notorious.
Folks tried to bully me all the time. I once had a whole hallway chanting insults at me. I was in my fair share of fights. I was scorned and teased and had all manner of nasty things done to me. But, it never affected me. I had plenty of friends, and I knew that the insults and bullying mostly came from fear, ignorance, and their own lack of self-confidence.
Last night I remembered a particular incident. Something I haven't thought about for a long time.
I had numerous groups I hung out with, most of them a grade or two above me. I gravitated towards the shop guys and mechanics because I had more in common with them than I did with the geeky boys (listen, I love D&D. I do. But dude, I cannot listen to you talk about your character's attributes and backstory one more time or I am going to punch something). There were a lot of "greasers" in that category. Guys that called themselves The Rebels, though the ones I hung out with—the ones from a grade higher—were pretty low-key. We mostly hung out in one guy's Studebaker listening to The Big Bopper or Elvis and smoking pot and illegally-imported Marlboros. We got along great. However, the greasers in my grade thought they were god's gift to the planet. They were hot shit. Bullied the fuck out of everyone. They all walked like they owned the fucking place. We didn't get along.
So, in my school bus, I "owned" the back four seats. I got to say who sat there and who didn't. I can't remember exactly how that came about, but I felt like a fucking mob boss back there. *grin* It was pretty cool, and I was always nice to the other kids.
However, one day some of these fucking young greaser guys from my grade got on the bus and demanded that I and my friends vacate the back of the bus because they wanted to sit there. The ring leader, this fuck that I will call Sil—because he probably looks like Sil from the Sopranos by now *points to picture above*—stood there staring at me in shock when I told him to fuck off. Then he started in with the insults. Finally, he punched me. Hard. Not in the face, mind you, but in the shoulder. When I didn't react and kept my eyes locked on his, he punched me again, harder.
Sil: *drops fist, glares at me* You're not going to move are you.
Me: Would it hurt you to say "please"?
Sil: *blink blink* What?? *confused* Uh. *thinks* Um. Can you uh please move?
Me: No, but you can sit with me if you like. *moves over*
Sil: *nervous laugh and an eventual shrug* Um. Well. Ok.
He sat down next to me, awkwardly. The rest of his crew just found places to sit wherever on the bus. I had won the little battle of wills. After a few minutes, Sil looked at me and said: "You're pretty tough."
*long silence while the bus leaves school*
"Sorry I hit you."
From that day on, it was a weird, shaky, uncomfortable relationship with the greasers from Grade 10, but they no longer insulted me or taunted my friends. At least not as much *laughs*.
So - while I had a great time in high school, I really did, it was filled with a hundred tiny battles like the one in the bus. That sort of sucked. But it helped make me who I am today. I still rarely back down, and I still don't really give a shit about what people think of me - or at least, I don't let it get to me.
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Man, I don't know why I've been so nostalgic lately. Part of it is definitely trying to come up with things to talk about in this blog. I keep thinking about stupid stories about growing up in the 'burbs. But while it's nice to wax nostalgic on my past, it's starting to feel like Gary King in The World's End.
It's not like I've been up to nothing in the last twenty years. I'll think of something more recent to write about.
(Oh fuck - I just looked up "Sil" on Facebook. Yup. He's got the whole Silvio Dante thing going on)
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