the lamest of the lame
February 10, 2009
Remember in The Breakfast Club, how in the big confessional scene, where everybody tells how they ended up in detention, and Emilio Estevez gets all wigged out cuz his Dad always wished he would “break out” more, get wild, do something crazy, stop being so straight and “jock-ish?”
My break out, do-something-crazy stories are the lamest of the lame.
In high school, me, my older brother, and a bunch of friends decided to go to the drive-in movies. Probably to see something WILD, like Wet T-Shirt Contest III.
But to make it even WILDER, we decided to sneak most of us in in the trunk of the car. Cuz drive-in movies charged by the person, not the carload. At least this one did. And we were sticking it to the man!
Except, who wants to spend a lot of time in the trunk of a car? Ick. So we didn’t actually put anybody IN the trunk until we were in line at the drive-in. And when we pulled up to pay, the guy, who had clearly been tipped off, took our money, then said “I’m going to have to look in your trunk.”
An eventuality for which we were completely unprepared. Completely.
Steve was driving. I think he said “um. Okay. Here, I’ll pop it. By the way, there are some guys in there.”
I feel like shooting myself in the head as I write this. Except it gets better.
The guy went back, looked, shut the trunk again (!?), and came back to the front and said, “Yeah, you’ll have to leave.”
Steve said “Can we have our money back then?” And the guy looked at us like we were total retards (a fair assessment) and said “Do you want me to call the cops?”
No, no we didn’t. We drove away.
Okay, NOW I feel like shooting myself in the head. I’ll settle for punching myself in the face.