I can’t believe I’ve never told this story before. I recently shared an old story on Facebook. And it brought a bunch of memories flooding back.
It was almost as if I had wished this part of my life away. But no matter where I go or what I do, there it is. I’m reminded often of this dark time in my existence.
I was a little lost. In life. Just trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do. With said life.
My cousin Barry and I found ourselves doing a stint over there at the community college. For most students, this was merely a stepping stone. For us, it was quite possibly the end of our collegiate career. Before it even really started.
Pretty sure our parents told us we could still live in their basements but we had to go somewhere during the day. Just to keep the neighbors happy. So we signed up for classes and split our time between school and hiding out at our grandma’s.
Barry and I found ourselves in some pretty awkward situations. Even for us. Yet at no time were we ever the ones made to feel awkward.
For some reason we took this super weird class. I have no idea why, now that I think about it. Just the day before I was majoring in bagels. So I’m assuming it was probably the only noon class with openings.
The teacher asked us to drop the class after the first quiz. Pfft. After the first test he wrote, “You Need To Drop Class” in red pencil on the top of our papers. Pfft. Pfft.
Barry and I knew damn well how college worked. We were third year sophomores. Over at the community college.
If the teacher was more than 30 seconds late you were able to leave. If you just show up to every class there is no way they would flunk you. And we had literally no where else to go.
Well this jerk didn’t get the memo. He was taking this stuff super seriously. He really didn’t understand community college. He thought he was at like a real college. Outside of the community.
He expected us to learn things. Like hard things. But the final straw was when we had to see a dead body.
At first we were pumped. We had seen Stand By Me like a million times. So we knew exactly how exciting it could be to see a dead body. Unfortunately the body we was about to see was no Ray Brower.
I do remember thinking, what the hell kind of class shows you naked people? But I wasn’t really a question asker at the time. So I just followed everyone else into the that room.
I literally would have followed anyone anywhere at this time in my life. I wasn’t really making my future happen as much as it was just sort of happening to me. Not really what you’d call a go-getter.
Anyway, Barry and I took one look at the poor dead naked man and we lost it. And I mean lost it. We could not stop laughing. I mean he was naked. He had hair down there and everything. I was so embarrassed.
That’s when the teacher escorted us to the registrars office. And forced us “to drop this class”. It was called Anatomy, by the way.
I could never get into medical school without passing Anatomy. Which has never been an issue since I’ve never considered medical school. I have seen some other naked people since that day, though. But it’s never been as funny.
Psychology. Now that was our class. You could say anything in that class and no one looked at you funny because everyone was nuts.
Well, almost anything. As Barry would soon learn. The hard way.
After finally getting over the gobs of lipstick the instructor had around the mouthpiece of her water bottle, day after day, we actually started to enjoy the class. We even participated once in a while. Sometimes willingly.
One day I was eating a bag of Cheetos. The entire time wiping my gross Cheetos crusted orange fingers all over the pages of Barry’s book. Because I was a mature college coed. Obvi not trying to make any new friends. I had all the frezins I needed.
So there we were, sitting there in class one day. And I am actually paying attention. Because of the intense subject matter.
Barry wasn’t so much. Paying attention. He had literally no clue what was going on. Which made what happened next all the more glorious.
Out of the clear blue sky, the teacher says, “Barry, what do you think?” Music to my freaking ears.
I look at Barry. He is frozen. He’s looking right at me. Desperate. Dying for me to throw him a bone.
I just so happen to have a bag full of bones on me that day, but I’m not throwing any. I just look right back at Barry. And I smile. I could not believe my insane luck.
Finally, I start to feel bad really bad for Barry. So I chime in. You know, to help him out. I say, “Yeah Barry, why don’t you tell us what your opinion on the subject matter is? We’re waiting, Barry. Please. Enlighten us.”
The teacher starts getting antsy. She says,”Okay, Barry, just think. If it was one of your sisters, how would you feel then?”
Oh my freaking God. The anticipation is killing me. I am literally dying to hear his response. I have to wait no more.
He finally musters up the courage to respond, “oh, yeah, um, yeah, well, um, yeah, um, well, um, I guess if it was my sisters I’d be all for it.”
Oh no he freaking did not. But yes. He freaking did.
The room exploded. I start slowing inching away from Barry. As fast as I possibly could.
This one girl was on fire. She got right in Barry’s face and said, screaming through her own spit, “How would you like it if I put your balls in a vice and cranked it as hard as I possibly could? Huh? Huh? How would you freaking like it??????? Fuc*ing Barry.”
All I can remember is finally being able to stop laughing long enough to tell Barry that the teacher was asking his feelings on Female Genital Mutilation.
Barry was all for it. Especially if it was for one of his own sisters.
And now, you know, the rest of the story.