Crazy Days of Youth

So I am sorry to say (for those of you who were SO enjoying the saga) (Thanks, Amber) that I have not heard the Exorcist theme since Sunday. So I am thinking one of two things has happened – either Mr. South Side FINALLY got a clue and has given up; or the more likely theory that Mr. South Side is laying low for a short while thinking that absence makes the heart grow fonder and will be calling again sooner rather than later. But never fear – for thanks to a brief conversation with my friend Julie yesterday, I am prepared to regale you all with a fun story from my youth.

See, I was lucky enough to go to an all-girls Catholic high school, and contrary to popular belief, all Catholic school girls are NOT slutty little ho’s. Au contraire, as my friend Julie and I were discussing yesterday, we were pretty darn naïve. At least, Julie and I were. I really can’t vouch for the rest of our class. To be honest, I’m sure there WERE at least a couple slutty little ho’s, just not Julie and me. But I digress.

Julie and I also worked together at the hospital across the street, in the dietary department. Which basically means we got to put the food on all the sick peoples’ trays, and eat whatever was left over. And goof off a lot. It was a TOTALLY fun job. In any case, one day when we got to work, there was a flyer posted by the employee lounge. Apparently the good Sisters of the Resurrection were sponsoring a ski trip up in Michigan for a whole weekend. All employees were welcome to attend, but space was limited. The fee was pretty reasonable, and it included a round-trip bus ride, lodging, ski equipment and lift tickets. Sounded great to us, so we started working our parents for the fee. (Hey, we were only making minimum wage – like WE would pay our own way!!) The trip became the main discussion at work, several of the guys were going, but Julie and I were the only girls. Of course, we told our parents that we would be rooming with six other nurse’s aides (we figured that sounded appropriate, since nurse’s aides sounded much more responsible than “a bunch of guys we know”). As it turned out, our ski trip “clique” consisted of myself, Julie, and eight guys. Obviously, there were other people going, but no one WE cared about. Now, keep in mind, we were like seventeen, and TOTAL innocents. It amazes me just how stupid we actually were back then.

So the weekend of the trip comes, and our parents drop us off at the hospital, where the two of us kind of wander by a group of women who certainly LOOK like nurse’s aides, and wait for them to drive off. When they do, we meander over to our REAL group – six guys we know pretty well, and two we don’t know at all. (Oh, I guess I should add that of the eight guys, five were over 21, which meant they had plenty of alcohol with them.) Now, before you go getting all “holier than thou” on me, remember that I said we were NICE girls – and although this all sounds like a big recipe for trouble (which it really should’ve been) it was really ok. Despite the fact that Julie and I had divided up the guys into three groups: guys SHE wanted, guys I wanted, and guys neither of us wanted. (I think she had three, I had three, and two were left over. Since we didn’t really know the other two and they weren’t that cute.) We all got on the bus, and moved to the rear. Because everyone knows that’s where the “cool” people hang out. And since I think the bus driver didn’t really know that there were minors on the trip (and I KNOW Sister Bonaventure didn’t) we cracked open our first (of many) beers of the weekend.

As I recall, one of Julie’s choices and one of my choices were cooperating nicely, and being all attentive and pleasant. And of course, we both were milking it, smiling and giggling and getting slightly buzzed. The “wild guys” (that were over 21) turned on the “Animal House” soundtrack and started singing along. (Good tunes, those were… but I guess in hindsight, I should’ve known where this weekend was going!!) Someone “happened” to locate a bottle of Jack Daniels, and about ¾ of the way into the trip (and halfway into the bottle), one of the guys leaned in toward Julie and I and stated emphatically, “Your MAMAS. aren’t HERE. TO. PRO. TECT. YOU.” At that point, we did get a bit nervous, but felt sure our virtue was safe. (To be honest, we never thought for a second that it wasn’t.) The rest of the bus trip was spent singing (and drinking) and laughing (and drinking) and maybe some kissing (and drinking), and finally we pulled up to the chalet.

Julie and I, being old school and all, decided that as girls, we weren’t going to help with the luggage at all. And we informed the guys of this fact. Surprisingly, they were ok with it. I think they may have just been too buzzed to argue. Anyway, Julie and I stormed the chalet while the guys wrestled with luggage, and started counting. In the living room was a couch, which was conveniently opened up into a bed. Two places to sleep. Upstairs were two additional bedrooms, one with a queen sized bed and one with two sets of bunk beds. Ok, so assuming we all passed basic math, this meant there were eight places to sleep. And ten of us. So, Julie and I did what any smart girls would do: we ran into the room with the queen sized bed and locked the door behind us.

Shortly thereafter we heard the guys stumbling in. It didn’t take long for them to do the math as well, and start pounding on the door. (Obviously, they weren’t going to be gentlemen about the beds.) Julie and I just laid on the bed laughing at their obvious misconception that we were going to let them in, until one of them broke the door down (not unlike the big bad wolf, mind you) and announced that the only way we could sleep in this bed was if we slept with him. And since this was one of the guys that was on the “neither” list, that wasn’t going to happen. To be honest, neither of us had any desire to sleep with ANYONE, nice girls that we were (I wasn’t kidding about that), so we wound up first trying to sleep on a box spring (which let me tell you, is NOT a good idea) and then winding up sleeping under the bunk beds. Which wasn’t so bad, unless you try to sit up in bed.

The rest of the weekend was pretty rowdy, but considering the fact that Julie and I were the only girls in a house with eight guys in the middle of nowhere and a lot of booze, we were lucky that it was only drunken goofiness. And a little bit of kissing. Sure, we knew the guys beforehand, but HELLO? Date rape, anyone? Which is what Julie and I were discussing yesterday. How we were sooooo stupid and naïve, and how the HELL did we not realize that?? Actually, the two of us managed to get ourselves into several sticky situations, without even realizing it. There was also the time we met two of her brother’s buddies who were in from the navy, and when they came in for leave, Julie and I thought NOTHING of going with them to a motel “just to hang out.” (And back then, I didn’t even know there was another meaning for the term “hang out!!”) Which is all we did, believe it or not. VERRRRY lucky – since these were navy guys we barely knew. And the times we would hang out in the forest preserve and walk ALONE into the woods to go pee. Oh, my God. If MY Roxy EVER even THOUGHT of doing any of these things, I would have to kill her. And Julie has THREE daughters SHE has to worry about. HA! Thank God I only have one.

Regardless of how stupid and naïve we were, though, we DID manage to survive. And we can laugh about it all now. And shake our heads in amazement. But I’m serious about killing Roxy. Homey don’t play that. And my poor kid won’t get away with ANYTHING, since her mom has “been there, done that” several times over and knows EVERYTHING!!! Well, I think I do, at least. Who knows with these crazy kids today. I guess I can only hope that she has more sense than I did.

Even though (I have to admit) I did have HELLA fun growing up.