I never really understood the pageantry and obsession people have with Homecoming in high school. I mean, I guess to the majority of students it’s a chance to exercise that right to make a decision for themselves, something they don’t really get to do in any other aspect of their lives. I know the only reason I would ever vote would be so that I would have a reason to finally talk to that gorgeous senior who was running.
Me: Hey. You don’t know me but I voted for you for Homecoming queen.
Her: You’re like, what, 4 feet tall?
Me: That doesn’t make me any less of a man!
That aside, I just don’t get what people care about so much. It doesn’t mean anything if you win, and half the time all the students get together and vote in some reject anyway just to make them feel worse about themselves. I could be wrong here but I really don’t think Jenny, the morbidly obese clarinet player with the lazy eye is the best choice as the face for the school. Anyway, storytime:
A friend of mine who went to another local high school, Brookview, invited me to come watch her cheer some time during my senior year. It just so happened to be the school’s homecoming game, so there were somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 billion people there, each sporting the pride of their alma mater. I’m sort of an asshole, so I decided to sport my school colors just to spite them. I got some generic boos and poorly constructed comments as I went up the bleachers and found a seat right on the 50 yard line.
About halfway through the first quarter it started to rain, making the game much more interesting. Obviously the school had booked an easy opponent to play so that they would slaughter them, but the rain leveled the playing field. Everyone was slipping, dropping the ball, and generally looking ridiculous. A buddy of mine played for the home team so despite my distaste for the school I did let out a few cheers in the first half, winning over some of the fans sitting around me. They asked me about my clothes, and in an attempt to get someone to let me borrow an umbrella, I told them it was a joke. (I realize at this point you’re thinking ‘there’s no joke there; he’s just wearing another school’s clothes.’ Trust me, I know it wasn’t a very good cover either but they bought it so don’t question it.)
After awhile the rain started to let up, and soon it was half time. All the delegates for each class lined up right on the middle of the field. They each looked really happy to have been elected to represent their class, and it was clear they had prepared for countless hours before the big presentation. I, of course, didn’t give a damn about any of this because I wanted to go down front and talk to the hot cheerleader who had invited me. I started down from the very top bleacher when it happened:
I slipped.
It started off as one of those almost cartoonish slips where I keep putting one foot down then the other, only to have them quickly slide out from under me, back and forth. During this time I made eye contact with one of the ladies I had been talking to earlier. I pleaded with my eyes for her to reach out and grab me. In response, she got her husband’s attention and had him look at me too.
From there things went pretty quickly. Both feet finally left me and I landed on my ass, steadily gaining speed as I hit each and every bleacher on my way down. At some point I started screaming because everyone was turning back to watch me come by them. It was almost like bobsledding except if you took away the bobsled and changed the snow to metal bleachers and all the patrons were there not to cheer you on but to laugh hysterically. Except for that it was just like bobsledding.
I finally got to the bottom and was stopped with a thud by the metal barricade separating the stands from the track. I sort of just lied there for a second, thinking if there was any possible way I could just disappear. During part of my thrill ride to Hell I had looked down to see my cheerleader just on the other side of the wall, so I knew she had seen me too. Slowly I stood up and turned to face the crowd. All 10 billion faces were looking at me in awe. I hope you can picture this.
I’m wearing my school’s colors. I’m soaking wet. I’ve just had a personal moment with each and every bleacher between the top and bottom of the stadium, and now I’m standing right in front of the entire Homecoming ceremony looking up at a sea of faces all wondering what the hell just happened. There was only one thing to do.
Me: GO BROOKVIEW!!!
The crowd erupted in laughter and applause. The cheerleader jumped over the wall and hugged me. Confetti fell from the sky, the mascot danced, and Bill Clinton himself started playing a saxophone solo. Ok none of that is true but the first sentence, but when you pictured it you wished you had been there didn’t you?
Seriously, everyone thought it had been staged. They thought I was some kid the school hired to wear my school’s clothes and act beligerent only to end up taking a tumble down the bleachers. I guess that would be to show that Brookview was superior to us in every aspect. Including slippery bleachers. The ladies I had been sitting with even found me later and told me I had ‘fooled them’. I guess I fooled them twice, considering I stole one of their umbrellas.
Josh
Filed under: humor, personal | Tagged: embarassing, football, homecoming, slip
LOL
sorry about your slip and your embarrassment though…
Excellent recovery, man. Don’t undersell being on the homecoming court. Later in life, most prospective employers ask the following questions in job interviews: “What do you think are your strengths? What makes you think you would be a good fit at this company? Were you ever on homecoming court?”