Freshman Year of High School was a serious downer. Firstly, I had an anger problem. Secondly, it seemed to be dark all the time. Thirdly, the bus. Oh, the bus.
I went to Don Bosco Technical Institute in the middle of nowhere, and as a result had an hour’s bus trip home through a poorly-maintained, perpetually gridlocked old country road. Worse, school left out at 3:30, and the bus only arrived for an hour, meaning unless we were very lucky, we wouldn’t get home until 6:00 PM.
Matt Kook and I were serious adversaries at Barnhart, and we would have our differences later, but since we were the only people at this school either of us knew, we had become partners of circumstance. On one particularly grueling traffic jam, it was only September and already dark, and I began humming a tune to myself.
Matt looked to me and said “I know the song you’re thinking of. It’s stuck in my head too.” I self-consciously stopped humming.
He reacted badly with Barnhart’s coddling approach to education, and his acidic, bullying style didn’t mesh well with my underdeveloped sense of humor. But now in catholic school we were free to be ourselves and essentially do whatever we wanted. And though we wouldn’t really hang out together, both our heads would cool with time.
Next: “Sam, meet television.”