Prom Night (s)

When I was in high school (four of them to be exact), I thought the prom was an annual thing. It was a time to drink and have sex.

I went to four proms. Three with senior girlfriends and my senior year I brought my girlfriend who was no longer in high school.

Some people never grew out of the prom.

You know them.

Weird.

I was very disassociated with high school and my fellow students. I thought the prom was lame, and only worthwhile because we usually got a free trip to somewhere cool and there was usually good music acts involved.

My Freshman prom was with the most beautiful girl in school (wouldn’t ya just know?) and she was over six-feet tall of Texas blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty. The prom was held in an English Country Manor House where we supped, danced, and over-consumed the night away.

My Sophomore prom was spent with the first American girl I ever had intimate relations with. It was held in a ballroom at the Savoy Hotel in London. I must have royalty somewhere in my lineage because I sure took to that grandiose style of relaxation rather smoothly.

My Junior prom was a disaster.

I actually could not remember who I asked to go to the prom with me. I went to the home of a girl who was all dressed up in her beautiful prom dress and standing on her front porch with her date.

Tres embarrassment.

The Night From Hell featured running out of gas, a flat tire, a speeding ticket, and being late (of course).

My senior prom was cool and we ended up watching Smokey Robinson and the Miracles at Disneyland.

Very cool.

I saw a video of a recent high school prom and talk about over-the-top! Laser shows, 3-D displays, AI.

Unreal.

My first prom was way more Back to the Future and Peggy Sue Got Married than anything else.

The decorations change, the music definitely changes, the faces are changing, and the years pass by, but the proms don’t change.

They are still for drinking and later, having sex. A chance to ruffle the feathers of girls in fancy dresses.

Or a chance to get burned alive in a gym by a pale, psychotic girl named Carrie.

I always liked Sissy Spacek.

She was pale white, so she could never pull off the dark or bright red shades of lipstick.

Tangerine.

Pinks.

At my senior prom, I got a snapshot of me in my early-70’s two-tone suit replete with a silk ascot.

And a cowboy hat.

No, I wasn’t too full of myself.

Proms can also be scary. Anytime you have kids, drugs, and alcohol, the potential exists.

Seriously breaks my heart when I hear of young deaths. When I think of how much life is being missed and how much beauty denied.

Stay well.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

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