So, as I mentioned in my last post; “Hero Takes A Fall,” I pointed out that it’s my perception that more and more people are afraid of admitting their mistakes. I thought I would throw a few of my own out there just to show it’s OK. It won’t make me look too bright, but I got more than a few laughs out of them. In some cases, after such episodes, there comes some very positive developments that were not expected.
One time in 6th grade, our teacher told us that the entire class would have to stand in front of the room and give a presentation to her, and all our fellow students. We were to demonstrate something. Some kids showed how to make paper airplanes, and some showed how to fold maps (large paper pictures with roads printed on them to aid in driving around; Pre-GPS if you’re not sure). I had to do something better. My brother had shown me how to mix baking soda and vinegar to make a fizzing bottle of liquid. I brought in my “kit” to class and though the teacher was apprehensive, the class was on the edge of their seats ready for some real science. Long story short, I mixed too much baking soda, shook too hard, and the cap on the glass mixing bottle flew off and the mixture exploded all over the teacher. All I remember was hysterical screaming from the teacher; “my dress, my dress; you wrecked my new dress!” After that, I became a cult hero, and the kids called me “the mad chemist”………COOL!
Then there was the time I asked this women out on a date to the movies. I wanted to go somewhere different and unique to show her I was unique. I decided to take her to the hip /avant-garde/ repertory theater on the East Side. There was a movie my brother and sister kept saying was so funny that I hadn’t seen. It was called Harold and Maude. We got to the movies and began to watch. The movie didn’t seem so funny, and I had this sinking feeling that the date was not the only thing going wrong. As it turns out, we weren’t watching Harold and Maude, we were watching “Brother Sun, Sister Moon,” which happened to be a biography-based drama about Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone; better known as, you guessed it; St. Francis of Assisi (I’m sure that was your guess). Yea, this wasn’t exactly a romantic love story. Francis founded the Franciscan Order of priest, was the name sake for San Francisco, and preached non-violence. In a cruel twist of fate, future individuals who displayed other than what was considered “manly attributes,” were called “A Sissy,” after the man who came from Assisi, Italy. Well, we made it through movie, and afterward, as you may guess, my date was somewhat speechless. She chose her words carefully, and I was sure “this was the end.” She explained that she had grown up in an all white, suburban, All-American town and nobody had ever taken her to an event like that in her life. She said it was very strange, but, unique. Needless to say, there was a second date, and some after that, but oddly, I don’t recall ever going to the movies with her again.
How about the time I seemed to lose recollection of a few critical minutes of my life between buying some Ring Dings and Chocolate milk at the self-serve convenience gas station, and the point I drove my car off with the gas pump handle still in my fill cap. Yep, the hose ripped right out of the tank and followed me across the parking lot. I brought it straight-faced to the counter attendant like someone who had just found a glove on the floor of the store and returned it. So, you want to know what’s the positive development at the end of this particular tale is? HELLO, haven’t you been reading; there isn’t one; I was just a flat-out jack-ass, and looked like a complete idiot.
It was me………..