In 9th grade I went to my first high school party
Jewfro, braces and all, I jumped in a taxi with a few older kids whom I met on President's Week vacation not long before.
I awkwardly followed behind the confident sophomores and juniors to the backyard of this kid Brian's house; complete with a woodsy, spacious backyard that was currently being raped and ransacked by Wheatley High teens.
Youngest kid at the party. A party hosted by a kid from another school, no less.
I WAS THE FUCKING SHIT.
IT BLEW MY MIND
As I passed the rowdy teens funneling Coors Light, I noticed some familiar faces standing in the corner of Brian's tennis court, they were huddled around a glass-blown bubbler, smoke billowing out of the mouthpiece.
me during those fast times
They were girls my age! from my school!
I approached circle of teens performing this mysterious ritual.
Tracey, my grade school crush and neighbor of 10 years announced. Her eyes were squinting.
I perked up and thought of words to say.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE!?!?!?" she quipped
the smokers erupted in laughter
I was crushed.
At that moment, I promised myself I would become the Party King of Long Island, and no one would question my existence anywhere, ever again.