So, I actually finished writing this a couple of days ago and just now realized I had never posted it. This is my sequel to last year's "Prom Story" featuring John Mayer. Except this time it's not fictionalized. Sorry. I also apologize for the way things get sloppy by the end; I was very tired and just wanted to finish with it so I could get back to Mexico, which, by the way, is moving along about as fast the line at the DMV. I just haven't had a lot of time to write. Hopefully, that will change soon, for summer will be upon us and I will have nothing but time. Except on the days when I have to work. Or party. Or volunteer at the Week. Or go to the beach. Or go on the Amazing Race. Or hang with the Tar Seven's. Or go to Peru. But other than that, nothing but time!

Okay, here we go:

I’ve been looking forward to Prom for a long time. Since before I had a date. Since before I even knew I was going. Throughout my entire high school career, I heard everyone talk about how wonderful it was, how I would never forget it, how it was the end-all be-all high school event. And while that might not all be true 100%, it certainly was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time, and it makes me very depressed knowing that it was my last high school dance.

I had decided pretty early on that I would go to Cornerstone’s Prom over my own. My reasoning was fairly simple; Prom, in its simplest form, is about having fun, and I knew that I would have more fun with my small group of best friends at Cornerstone, than with my larger group of good friends at Newbury Park. As a matter of fact, “good friends” is probably a stretch to describe my opinion of some of the people at my school. Enough said; Cornerstone was where the fun was at. That, and the ticket price was like half that of Newbury’s.

After that, I set out to find a date. Though I never usually have a problem going stag, I’ve always been a bit of a traditionalist, and figured I should get a date for Prom, because…well, because it’s Prom. I needed a date, and it couldn’t be John Mayer this time (though, I must admit, that was the most exciting dance I’d ever been to). I just needed a girl to ask.

The opportunity presented itself on Nate’s birthday, when we all went to the beach after a hike. We were sitting in the sand, talking and eating and… well, those are pretty much the only two things we ever do as a group. But there we were, doing said things, and we started talking about Prom, and how excited we were for it. Then, Hannah began talking about a certain someone, who shall not be named (but, in honor of Dillon, we shall call him Chud), that she was afraid was going to ask her to be his date. She needed someone else to ask her first.

“Why don’t you go with Travis?” someone suggested.

“Because he hasn’t asked me yet.” She said, in a more-than-implicit tone.

“Hannah!” I called to her from across our circle of friends. “Will you go to Prom with me?”

“Of course!” She replied, happily.

“Well, that was a special moment,” Justin said.

And that’s how that happened.

Date; check. Now we need a method of transportation. Limo, maybe? Oh, for sure, dude.

Elizabeth was organizing a limo for the Cornerstone seniors and their dates. And, unfortunately, I was neither. Elizabeth told me there would be room in the limo if some people neglected to ride in it, but not to get my hopes up. In the meantime, Alexa devised a plan that, should she, Ashley, Hannah, and I not make it into the limo, she would provide a mode of transportation for the four of us.

Fortunately, a couple weeks before the dance, Elizabeth notified me that two of the guys declined the limo offer, so there were four spots open. Lucky us. The price for the limo per person was $55, the same as the price of admission to the dance. So now I was down $220. And there was still three weeks until the actual event.

Date; check. Limo; check. Tux; uh... let’s get on that.

My dad was telling me about how, a very long time ago (we’re talking, like, 1992 here), he saw a tuxedo vest with a Mickey Mouse pattern. “That would be really cool,” I agreed, “But what are the chances that we’re going to find one?”

My dad took me over to a guy that he’d done business with several times before, named Rex. He was a very funny, very helpful man. He talked to me for a long time about shoes. Not relevant shoes, like what I would be wearing with my tux… just shoes in general. And then we got down to business.

“Do you know what color dress your date is wearing?”

Uhm… that would be good information to have, wouldn’t it?

While I got to texting Hannah, my dad brought something up with Rex. “I was shopping around a couple of years back, and I saw this really cool Mickey Mouse vest. And, this guy here, he’s like Mr. Disney. So, we were wondering if you had anything…”

Rex smiled. “Yeah, let me check in the back for you.”

Hannah’s response to what color dress she was wearing was “either white or baby pink,” and she would let me know tomorrow. Meanwhile, Rex emerged from the backroom with a bow tie, with a wonderful Mickey Mouse pattern. It wasn’t so loud that it looked ridiculous. In fact, it was almost discreet; it wasn’t hard to see, but you wouldn’t notice unless you looked at it. Even though it was patterned, my dad described the color as a ‘dusty rose,’ which wouldn’t clash with a pink dress.

“We don’t have the vest piece right now,” Rex explained, “but we will have it by the 31^st. I’m gonna put you down for the Mickey vest, and if your date changes her mind about the dress, give me a call and we’ll work something else out.”

$120 for the tuxedo plus the previously established $220 puts us at $340 thus far, and Prom was still two weeks away. My mom agreed to pay for the corsage, so that was nice of her. Now that I had everything bought and paid for, all that was left was to wait it out.

The end of the year is one of those things that feels like it’s taking forever while you’re waiting, and then it hits and you think, “Well, that happened faster than I expected.” It’s a strange paradox, but I’m sure most seniors will agree with me. Before I knew it, it was May 31^st, and I drove around Ventura County, picked up my tuxedo and my corsage (Hannah had chosen to go with the baby pink dress, so I stuck with the Mickey vest and got her a pink corsage), and headed to the Bridges’ house by 5:00.

I arrived at the same time as Justin, who definitely had the best outfit (though every time someone brought this up, I would shift the attention to my amazing vest). Justin was decked out with a standard tuxedo with a white vest, but wore additionally a top hat, white gloves, and carried a walking cane. He looked like a pimp from the 1920s.

Nate had a blue suit, to match his date Elizabeth’s blue dress. Graham wore a tux with a pink tie, to go with Jessi’s pink dress. And Jordan had a blue tuxedo, to go with Mel’s blue dress. I’m sure you could tell, blue and pink were the prominent colors this year. Babis also wore a blue tux, though he didn’t officially have a date; Alexa was kind of his unarranged date. She wore a white dress. They didn’t match, but they didn’t really have to. There were more people at the Bridges’ house, but I’ve gone over all of the important ones.

Shortly after my arrival, it was declared time to put on the corsages and boutonnières. Hannah and I got ours on pretty quickly; too quickly, in fact, for either of our parents to get pictures of it. So we then had to “pose” as if we were still putting them on, without looking like we were posing. It was difficult, and I’m sure the pictures turned out very cheesy, but probably very funny.

Then we started taking group pictures. The six guys (Graham, Nate, Justin, Me, Babis, and Jordan) took an overabundance of group pictures on the back porch, starting with a couple of pictures where we all smiled, and then some were we didn’t smile. For the non-smiling pictures, I made a priceless expression that was dubbed “smoldering.” I know it’s an actual word, but I’ve never heard it in that context before, and I’m not sure it was being used correctly, but it was hilarious and the phrase was repeated for the rest of the night. “You’re smoldering, baby! Smoldering!”

We then took pictures in front of the limo, starting with senior girls (not me), then all Cornerstone seniors and their dates (still not me) and finally, everyone riding in the limo (there we go). Eventually, we were all seated in the limo, got the parents to stop opening the doors and peeking through the windows, and took off toward Thousand Oaks.

We were eating dinner at BJ’s in TO but we arrived a little behind schedule. Not only had we spent a lot of time at the Bridges’, but getting to BJ’s proved hard for the limo driver, who was having a difficult time making a right turn into the parking lot. Instead, he drove around for a couple of blocks and came around a different way, so that he could drive straight into the parking lot rather than turn. He was a really cool dude, though. As we exited the limo, we asked us if we were up for ditching Prom altogether and driving down to Vegas. “We are so down!” Justin exclaimed.

“Except one of you would have to drive,” he said. “Because I kinda wanna party in the back with you guys.”

We looked pretty cool walking into BJ’s, over twenty kids in tuxes and dresses. Also, Jessi tripped and fell while walking down the stairs. That probably made our group look even cooler. While we were waiting to be seated, I hid my Boner Coke underneath my seat. It had been a novelty when we discovered it in the limo (it was a can of Coke with a bulge in the top that looked like, well, like a boner) but I somehow got stuck with it and it was becoming more of an annoyance. Though, I will admit, it was fun to yell loudly inside the restaurant “Would someone please take my boner from me?”

We’re a very disruptive group of kids. Or maybe it’s just me.

Luckily, we were seated on the outside patio, which meant we had to walk by nearly every other table to get there. There were lots of opportunities to show off. I think our group took up about three tables; Justin, Nate, Elizabeth, Graham, Jessi, Melissa, Jordan, Alexa, Babis, Hannah, and I were all seated at one. We were pretty content with it, seeing as it was all of our favorite people in the group (minus Ashley, who sat at the table behind us). Actually, those ten other people (and Ashley) are probably my favorite people in the world. I was very happy that we were all together for the night. I knew at that moment that I had made the right decision in which Prom to go to.

Dinner tonight was pizza and salad, which we consumed quickly and happily. We then moved on to two giant Pizookies, which we ate as a group. Meanwhile, we discussed a variety of topics, as we usually do. And Graham kept adjusting the blinds to block the sun from the eyes of those sitting on a certain side of the table (conveniently, the side that I was sitting on). What a nice man.

The dance was scheduled to begin at 7:00, and it was at least half past seven by the time we decided to get a move on. It’s a private school dance; about half of those attending were riding in our limo. The dance would start when we arrived; we weren’t too worried about being punctual.

It was probably closer to eight by the time we got to the hotel where the dance was being held. Mr. Martinez greeted us, and showed us out to the back patio, where the rest of the dance-goers were gathered. There was a picture area set up, so we spent a good deal of time with that. Alexa and Babis, Jordan and Melissa, Graham and Jessi, Elizabeth and Nate, and Hannah and I all took pictures as couples, and then the ten of us joined up with Ashley, Justin, Nu, and Tanner for a group photo. They all turned out pretty cute, I must say.

After our group photo, we headed inside for the actual dance portion of the dance. The first hour was pretty uneventful. The majority of the songs played were less than amazing, though we danced along anyway. Things started to pick up once the clock hit about 9:30 (that’s just an estimate; no one was really keeping track of time). The songs got progressively better, as we ran into dance gems like “Get Low” “Crank That” and “Yeah!” Things were starting to get hectic after “What is Love?” where all of the guys formed a line and parodied the “Night at the Roxbury” sketch from Saturday Night Live. My neck was absolutely killing me by the conclusion of the song, and I was feeling lightheaded. I stumbled to the bathroom to chill out for a bit, only to discover…

“Don’t go in that door. That’s not the bathroom, guys; that’s the woofer.”

When I returned from my adventure to find the bathroom and regain my composure, I returned to the dance only to discover that I had failed at my mission to protect Hannah from the man we refer to as Chud; there they were dancing to “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing.” And she did not look pleased. I felt horrible. And, on top of that, I was forced to sit out of one of my favorite slow dance songs, making me look like a loner. It was a very tragic moment.

Things didn’t slow down after that. For “Cotton Eyed Joe” we formed a square dancing circle, and put on our best Michael Jackson impressions for “Billie Jean.” I would go to sit down in between songs, but then a new song would come on that I just had to be on the dance floor for. It was miserable.

The last couple of slow songs played, and I got to dance with Hannah and prevent her from having to dance with Chud again, something she hasn’t yet, to this day, let me forget about. The dance concluded around 10:30, so that we would be out of there at 11:00. At first, I thought that was being a little too cautious, stopping the music half an hour early, but I soon understood; we spent so much time talking and taking pictures, we barely made it out before eleven.

Our limo driver swung around to pick us up and Tanner tried to bum a ride off of us, saying that the people he came with decided to leave earlier. But there was no room in the limo, he hadn’t paid for any part of it, and we frankly just felt like being mean to him. So we left him standing outside the hotel, calling for a ride, as we took off for the Ventura Fairgrounds.

Throughout the night, almost immediately after we’d departed from the Bridges’, there’d been some drinking going on. Not by any of us, mind you; we’re good kids. But from some of the other kids further down in the limo weren’t so good. They were drinking and popping pills and generally just having a very rowdy time, and I was okay with it for awhile. Well, maybe I wasn’t “okay” with it, but I wasn’t really uncomfortable. As long as they kept to themselves, I was fine.

On the way back to the Bridges’ (the beach was a bust; we didn’t stay there for very long) one of the drunks passed out. Beforehand, he was grooving in the limo over by Justin, who was imitating him, and you couldn’t really tell that one of them wasn’t drunk. And then the guy passed out. And, as the rule states, if their shoes are still on, they’re fair game. So one of the other guys took the liberty of drawing a penis on his face, after checking to make sure he was pretty gone, poking him and taking flash pictures and what have you.

The guy woke up moments after the lipstick touched his cheek. And he was not happy. The guy who did the drawing was in the military, and the drunk was pretty wasted; if they got in a fight, and it was looking pretty promising, it wouldn’t have lasted long. Eventually, one of his bigger friends got up and sat next to him to calm him down. I think this worked, for there was no more confrontation whilst in the limo.

But as soon as we got out at the Bridges’ house, it was back on. There was shouting, and their dates were getting upset, and the neighbors started peeking out the window. It was madness, madness I tell you. And then out came Mrs. Bridges, followed closely by Garrett, Eric, and David. Linette pretty much broke up the tension single-handedly, rushing everyone else inside and having a good one-on-one talk with John, the buzzed one. Some of the girls stayed outside to console those of them that were emotionally traumatized. Myself, I went inside; I’d seen all I needed to see, and I was now ready for rest.

The party at the Bridges’ raged all night long, though I probably should’ve chosen a word other than “raged.” I suppose that “barely lasted” is a better choice. We sat in groups and talked and watched movies, and I would occasionally switch back and forth between the kids watching Aladdin and Casino Royale, and the kids chilling in Hannah’s room, evidently tired but refusing to fall asleep. At around four in the morning, Mrs. Bridges (who had finished up with John) suggested I grab some blankets and crash in either Jordan’s room or the Bonus room. Finding company with Lizzy, Laura, Ana, and Babis in Jordan’s room, I set up camp at the foot of the bed and slept for a good four hours, with occasional awakenings.

I went downstairs sometime around eight or nine and met up with the kids who had stayed up all night watching movies; they were not a very lively group. They were currently watching A Knight’s Tale featuring the late Heath Ledger. I like the movie, but there was no way I was staying up for the whole thing, and I fell asleep on the couch at one point or another.

I slept through church, to the dismay of Jeff and other people expecting us to show up in our tuxes and dresses. In retrospect, we probably could’ve survived at 10:30 service, but at the time all I could think about was how I felt that I would never be well-rested again. I didn’t completely wake up until around 11:30, when it was announced that we were going to the O.R. Though slightly reluctant, I complied and got ready to go in my tux. However, only like four other people actually ended up at Me-N-Ed’s that morning; everyone else had either gone home or stayed at the Bridges’ for an extra couple of hours. Whatever; who needs them?

Our time in the Operating Room was fun, if uneventful. I can’t remember a single thing we talked about, though I can’t really remember anything about Prom past midnight. Which leads me to wonder why this report is continuing on like it is. I think I shall conclude it right here, seeing as I’m pretty sure that after this point, I went home and napped for a long time.

In conclusion, I had an amazing time at Prom. A much more amazing time, I’m sure, than I would’ve had if I’d opted to go to Newbury Park’s instead. I am totally confident that my decision was the right one, and thusly had more fun that night than at any other time that month, possibly since Mexico. I remember getting home and not wanting to take the tuxedo off for two reasons. The first one being because I was so dang tired that I probably couldn’t remember how to take off the vest. But secondly, and most importantly, because that meant it was over, and I would never get to go to another high school dance as a high schooler ever again. Though, as far as “going out with a bang,” the 2008 Prom did a pretty splendid job, and loved every minute of it. I can’t think of going out a better way.