In Fall 1985, my elementary school sent us to Huntsville, Alabama to the U.S. Space & Rocket Center. Here’s Chad, the kid who sat next to me on the bus ride from Nashville:
He also sat next to me on a high school field trip to Washington, D.C. in Spring 1992:
He no longer poses like this or signs yearbooks with “Your friend Chad, otherwise known as ‘Rocky Balboa’.”
We walked around the museum and rode some centrifuge-like vehicle that spun us around and made the wheeled contraption to which I was strapped rise above the floor a few feet, consistent with what the ride’s operator told us to expect if any of us were “particularly light” (which I translated to mean, “little pussyboys”).
There was a monkey behind glass that was either Miss Baker or one of her stunt doubles. I was watching her sit on a limb for a minute when I noticed one of my classmates, Emily Coke, standing directly across from me. She was also watching Miss Baker, and I was watching her. She noticed me looking her way through the glass and smiled. I looked away.
Our next group activity was to go into the movie theater and watch some film about how Kennedy got us on the moon. Chad ended up in the row in front of me next to his girlfriend, Sarah. I positioned myself in line behind Emily.
Emily and I had a bit of a history. Her best friend Suzanne had asked whom I liked at the end of fourth grade, and I’d responded with a code: Wms, Ckgjw. Each letter used was two letters ahead of the letter intended. I’d given her what I thought was an adequate key, that “W=Y,” but she still struggled with it for a week or so until I finally gave up losing sleep and told Suzanne that it meant “You, Emily,” so that she could tell Emily (a CIA codebreaker Emily is not). We had not spoken about my cryptic message, however, as school had ended, and fifth grade meant different teachers.
The lights lowered. Emily reached down with her left hand and grabbed my right hand. My heart rate tripled. Except for a couple breaks to wipe off the sweat on my Jams, they stayed together.
The movie ended; Emily released my hand, and everyone but me stood up to walk outside.
Chad: “Aren’t you coming outside? I think they got dippin’ dots out there!”
Me: “Um, just a minute…”
I had a boner. I held my gold Kodak Disc camera over my crotch to hide the inordinate amount of pleasure I’d experienced from holding a girl’s hand.
It wouldn’t go away. Emily was waiting on me at the end of the row, so I slowly stood up, tucked my erect soldier into the elastic waistband of my Fruit of the Loom briefs, and walked towards the exit.
Emily: “Hey, you have a camera! Sarah, Will you take a picture of us?”
Me: “Um, don’t you have a camera?”
Emily: “No. Besides, yours is right there in your hand. Why don’t you let Sarah take our picture together?”
Sarah grabbed my camera as I frantically placed my hands over my crotch like soccer players do before a free kick on the goal.
Emily (putting her arm around my shoulder to pose): “Aren’t you going to put your arm around me?”
Me (desperately trying to picture our wrinkly old principal): “Oh-Okay.”
And there we were. Arm in arm, posing in front of the U.S. Space & Rocket Center, Emily looking at the camera, and me looking at my crotch.
You have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!! where is the picture? I wade thru that story, look at two shots of the nerd on the bus, I click on those annoying links thinking I am getting some good stuff, and at the end is NO photo of you and your little friends?
What a tease. No alliteration for you on this post!!
bummer.
The picture got lost…I gave it to Emily, and she never gave it back. Her family moved to FL not long after this trip.
loser lost lady. laments long-ago loving. lurker laughs.
forgiven
Corny code. Cozy with Coke. Camera covers crotch. Cuddling. Cute. Crazy kids.
Convenient comments, eh?
Chad looks a little like Harry Potter in the second photo.
I had a Disc camera as well, loved those things. Rubbish photos, though.
I have also had boners.
I just laughed so hard I almost woke my babies!!
you were a smooth operator weren’t ya? 😉
This sooooo started my day off on the right foot.
AvatG, Glad you’re not angry any more.
FreeMan, He does! They weren’t prescription; he bought them from a street vendor in D.C.
ChurchPunk, Don’t wake the babies! Glad to hear it.
ChatBlanc, Smooth as a corn cob, right?
PunkRock, Glad I could help with that.
1985…1992….2008:
http://thefigurehead.wordpress.com/2008/07/26/matt-hughes-meets-the-figurehead/
Emily Coke is a whore, too.
I thought this only happened when you hold MY hand??
(Sigh.)
Classic. After reading your post I began scrambling around – like everyone else from the sounds of it – desperate to see the picture. DENIED. (I don’t know how to do the appropriate emoticon here for a frustrated, grumpy face. So just imagine that is what you see right HERE.)
But it was a great story, followed by a stunning symphony of alliteration, followed by a comment by the wife that made me think she’s my kind of peeps.
Not bad for free entertainment…I think I’ll call it a day!
F’head, thanks for providing us an updated pic! Hope you enjoyed being famous today.
PB, I think she ended up being valedictorian of some high school in Orlando. Not that academic success and whoredom are mutually exclusive.
Bex, I apologize again. I wish I had the damned pic. I feel like a tease. A big, leading-everyone-on tease.
AWESOME! Young boner stories. I wonder what Emily’s side would be. She seems like sort of a tease. Oh, man. I think puberty is harder on boys than it is girls (seriously, no lame pun intended) Also, dippin dots? I would have bolted with RT for dippin dots.
Nice. My trip to Huntsville was FAR less erotic. Mine resulted in getting I.S.S. as a result of getting lumped into the blame pool for several large objects being hurled from the third floor balcony to the lobby below. The couple of miscreants responsible for such vandalism also barricaded our four foot tall science teacher in her room by stuffing mattresses in her doorway. THAT was actually funny as shit.
Pingback: desperately seeking boners «
Pingback: Father Muskrat » desperately seeking boners
Holy Shit!! That was funny as hell!!
Well fuk me a runnin. lol.
Pingback: the space center, 27 years later | The Muskrat
Pingback: to awol or not to awol | The Muskrat