junior prom (old post that I forgot to upload)

At the age of 31, I was forced to attend my first ever prom. Sure, prom existed back in the olden days of the mid-90’s, but it was nothing of interest to me, except possibly as a potential place to hang out with my friends. Luckily, my friends also had no interest in prom. Instead we choose to go eat at an old-timey whorehouse-turned-restaurant in Jerome, Arizona. Based on my experience as a chaperone at the junior prom, I’m going to stand by that decision.

At first, I thought it was going to be the easiest mandatory supervisory duty ever, as I was checking in students and giving them pieces of paper with which to cast their king and queen votes. Then, approximately 15 minutes after the start of the prom, I very drunk 16 year old girl walked through the door. The principal of the school corralled her away from the prom and when I looked over, there were awkward hugs being exchanged, as well a very annoyed looking principal. When she (the principal) came over to the table to ask where the permission slip for this girl was (in order to call her parents), I piped up that I could watch her while more important stuff was accomplished. I mean, I’m just a chaperone and the principal is a woman who makes decisions—obviously her knowledge of the legal ramifications of the situation was needed over her awesome babysitting skills.

So, I helped the girl go to the bathroom, while holding the door handle from the outside so that she couldn’t lock herself into the room. I tried to talk to her as we sat down and waited for someone to reach her parents. The girl had gone to another planet, making enlightening conversation difficult. The administration couldn’t reach her parents and by the time they came to get her, it had been ONE AND A HALF HOURS! During this time, she talked on her “hand cell phone”, asked me if she could go smoke with her friends, spoke in a language that I did not understand (she is not polylingual), danced while sitting right next to me, yelled at imaginary people, and repeatedly tried to leave, forcing me into the awkward situation of having to chase her and firmly lead her back to the “special seat” where we were sitting. She also kept thanking me and giving me drunken hugs. Needless to say, it was not very fun. After her parents came, however, I got the unofficial “Mother Theresa” award and was allowed to skip the last two hours of my chaperoning for going beyond the call of duty.

Before I left, I did get to see another student flat out arrested for being disorderly (and drunk). All in all, my experiment in the psychology and cultural anthropology of teenagers is going well!