Today’s post comes from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden.
Hey Mr. C.,
I can’t believe it’s August already!
Pretty soon I’ll be back at Wendell Wilkie High School (again)! Being a perennial sophomore, I know the routine pretty well – a lot better than some of the teachers.
This year will be extra exciting because it’s a presidential election year, and that means we can burn up a lot of time in first hour American History class if Mr. Boozenporn sees something on the news the night before that irks him, which he almost always does.
Four years ago we spent the whole month of October talking about political ads, and I hear that this year the ads are gonna be even wackier. I was watching TV last night, looking for something I could bring up on the first day of school, when I saw an interview with this Paul Ryan guy who is going to run for vice president, I guess.
There was a whole lot of talk about budgets and numbers and stuff that makes me feel like I’ve got bees in my ears whenever I hear it, so I really don’t remember any of that. But what did get my attention was when he talked about trying to sneak out of his own house so reporters wouldn’t know he was going off to meet Mitt Romney.
Sneaking out of the house is something I think about a lot. I’m not saying I’ve done it a lot, but if Jennifer Currie asked me to hang out with her at, like, midnight … I would definitely find a way. So that part of Paul Ryan’s story really resonated for me. But he had it easy – he just walked in the front door of his house and right out the back door and through the woods and a yard on the other side, to the street where somebody picked him up!
He was kind of boasting about how clever that was, even though there wasn’t anybody actually IN the house trying to keep him from getting out, and he had a convenient forest right there to hide in and a driver to whisk him away. I wish I had just ONE of those things working for me. Anybody could sneak out under those conditions.
I’ve got all kinds of people at my house (OK, mom and dad, mostly) always asking “Where are you going?” and “What’re you doing?” Most of the time the answer is “nowhere” and “nothing”, which just seems to make them madder. And instead of having a forest right outside the back door, I’ve got to cross this wide open stretch that’s like the exercise yard at Leavenworth. There’s no grass back there, which makes it mushy after a rain. And there are motion sensitive lights and a dog next door (Buddy) who flies off the handle whenever he hears somebody on our side of the fence breathing. And then there’s the fence itself – it’s so old and rickety, I know it’s going to collapse on me someday when I’m vaulting over it, just like the pole did for that jumper guy from Cuba. And then Ryan had someone to pick him up! I’d like to see him sneak out and get where he’s going by having to “borrow” a bike from the neighbor’s garage!
But I guess that’s how it is when you get to be a Congressman (and maybe vice president) – you get to do stuff the easy way and think you’ve had a real accomplishment.
I’m not saying I’ve done any of that, by the way. But in all the times I’ve imagined meeting Jennifer Currie at midnight, that’s how I got there – tossing a steak to Buddy, crawling on my belly through the mud in the back yard, vaulting over the fence and then riding ten miles on a stolen bike.
And when I show up, all mud caked and sweaty, she’s always happy to see me. That’s how I know it didn’t really happen!
Ever sneak out of the house, or travel under cover?