I complain that gym class set some rule that all personal electronics and cameras would be confiscated and thrown in the trash. I am not complaining about this policy per se, but how anyone would manage to GET any such items out into the gym. Hidden in their gym shorts? Then I mull the irony that despite the "no camera rule," there are a lot of photos of sports in the yearbook and newspaper. I guess I didn't know that gym != sports. I also mention that one of our players, Mike Collins, was injured by a gym teacher during wrestling. His hip was "broken" (the hip apparently cracked, the cast covered one of his legs and all of his waist) and he was confined to a wheelchair. Apparently, at least in my sophomore year, I did have a concept of "the popular crowd," which I designated as "Group One." I totally don't remember that, but I thought Mike was part of this crowd. I make rather sardonic comments about him having fun in the wheelchair, getting attention, and how he played up the whole injury thing both as a free spirit and a sympathy ploy.
I immediately wonder, like probably some of you did just now, how he went to the bathroom. It shall remain a mystery... I also wonder why this did not make the news, and my "this school is heavily favored towards the jocks, and will cover up any mishap they may cause."
Little did I know my neck would almost break in two in less than half a year. During wrestling. Because an assistant coach did NOT pair me against someone in my weight category, but a cocaine-using football player. Foreshadowing... ooh...
At some point, some fellow jock, while goofing off with the wheelchair, nearly tips him over, spilling his backpack out of Mike's lap, and it spills to contents all over the floor. One of the contents? Dum dum DUM! A Walkman! [gasp] Well, he thought he was ALLOWED TO USE IT, if you can imagine that disgrace to the anti-personal-electronics I felt was happening. I also point out that he would listen to it, and was singing, aloud at the top of his lungs, the U2 song, "In the Name of Love." In those days, the "personal stereo" was still a new concept, and people, hearing the loudness through their earphones, assumed that no one else could hear them, so sang loudly.
Frat boy material, right there.
Well, Mr. Pease, the gym teacher, grabbed the Walkman, and despite the ardent protests of, "But it's not mine, hey man, it's my brothers's!" Mr. Pease tosses the Walkman across the gym and out the door. Mike rolls to get it, but the gym doors are so hard to open, it's almost a two-man operation for someone in a wheelchair. Luckily, some other student fetched it for him. Doooooooh!
Justice is NOT served for the Punkie...
In other news, they showed us a film where the narrator (another teacher named Mr. Lindstrum) talks like Christopher Walken or William Shatner, in the fact he pauses so dramatically. He was explaining the virtues of our new weight room, complete with top-of-the-line Nautilus equipment (yeah, rich kid's school. It shows. Except in the science labs where people had to practically buy their own frogs to dissect...). Mr. Pease makes a joke that his jocks can't count without moving their lips.
Some kid named Andrew, who I explain, "is retarded, because he apparently comes from another country," (yeesh... sorry about that), and when roll call is uttered, answers, "Right HEWRE!" like Jim Varney (the "Hey Vern" guy). This was before he made all those "Earnest Goes to..." films. Well, I explain ALL of the annoying commercials, in detail, to show how they annoying they were. For about five minutes.
Sorry, Neal. At least I admitted I had digressed.
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