ONE Of Us Was On A Date
At the end of every marching band season, there is a banquet. First you eat, then there are awards, and it ends with dancing. There was one year in band where I agreed to give a friend in band a ride to the banquet, because she did not have a car of her own. In addition, she only lived a few blocks away, so carpooling only made sense.
The day before the banquet, she asked if I could pick up her best friend on the way. It was not on the way, but her friend was cute, so it was easy to add her. That evening, I go and pick up my friend. There was nothing out of the ordinary. That is, until we arrived at her friend’s house.
Once we get inside her friend’s house, the friend’s parents are there with a camera. They start taking all sorts of pictures, like we were going to prom. (For those of you that have not gone to prom, that is A LOT of freakin’ pictures.) I played along, but felt like someone that had crashed a stranger’s wedding. Had I been older and wiser at the time, I might have seen the signs. Where my internal alarm began to go off is when the parents removed their daughter from the picture, leaving only my “carpool” and myself in a series of couple’s pictures. Finally, we are allowed to leave. On the way to the car, I complimented her friend’s dress, and got a slap in the arm for it. When I turned to my friend and looked at her, she just laughed it off.
At band banquets, players and their dates usually sit in their section. (When you spend your class time spread across a football field, you generally are most familiar with these players.) So, it was nothing for me to part ways with the people I drove, because I thought that was what they were doing, too.
The award ceremony ended, and the music started. As if on cue, everybody moved to by or onto the dance floor. I sort of remember passing her by and saying hello. I was saying hello to all sorts of people, but I started to notice that the women were awfully chilly. Okay, MORE chilly than normal. Happy?
Finally, the friend that rode with us took me aside to tell me what-for.
“I can’t believe this. You haven’t talked to ______ all night. You have been completely ignoring her. That is no way to treat a date. I… “
“WHAT? We’re not on a date.”
She paused. “What? You’re not”?
“NO! She asked me for a ride to the banquet, and I said yes.”
“Oh. My. God.”
“What? What? What did she tell you”?
“She has been telling everybody that you were taking her to the banquet.”
“I was. As in date”?
“Yes. You were ‘taking’ her to the banquet.”
“No. She specifically said, ‘Can I get a ride.’”
“Okay. Let me go fix this. Everybody thinks you’re an asshole.”
“I appreciate that.”
I watched her make the rounds. She would whisper in someone’s ear. They would make eye contact with me. Then, the nodding would begin, and I knew they had just received the second half of the story. The rest of the night went just fine. Her friend was good enough to make sure they got a ride home from someone else to give me a break.
I will never know what was going through her mind.
The day before the banquet, she asked if I could pick up her best friend on the way. It was not on the way, but her friend was cute, so it was easy to add her. That evening, I go and pick up my friend. There was nothing out of the ordinary. That is, until we arrived at her friend’s house.
Once we get inside her friend’s house, the friend’s parents are there with a camera. They start taking all sorts of pictures, like we were going to prom. (For those of you that have not gone to prom, that is A LOT of freakin’ pictures.) I played along, but felt like someone that had crashed a stranger’s wedding. Had I been older and wiser at the time, I might have seen the signs. Where my internal alarm began to go off is when the parents removed their daughter from the picture, leaving only my “carpool” and myself in a series of couple’s pictures. Finally, we are allowed to leave. On the way to the car, I complimented her friend’s dress, and got a slap in the arm for it. When I turned to my friend and looked at her, she just laughed it off.
At band banquets, players and their dates usually sit in their section. (When you spend your class time spread across a football field, you generally are most familiar with these players.) So, it was nothing for me to part ways with the people I drove, because I thought that was what they were doing, too.
The award ceremony ended, and the music started. As if on cue, everybody moved to by or onto the dance floor. I sort of remember passing her by and saying hello. I was saying hello to all sorts of people, but I started to notice that the women were awfully chilly. Okay, MORE chilly than normal. Happy?
Finally, the friend that rode with us took me aside to tell me what-for.
“I can’t believe this. You haven’t talked to ______ all night. You have been completely ignoring her. That is no way to treat a date. I… “
“WHAT? We’re not on a date.”
She paused. “What? You’re not”?
“NO! She asked me for a ride to the banquet, and I said yes.”
“Oh. My. God.”
“What? What? What did she tell you”?
“She has been telling everybody that you were taking her to the banquet.”
“I was. As in date”?
“Yes. You were ‘taking’ her to the banquet.”
“No. She specifically said, ‘Can I get a ride.’”
“Okay. Let me go fix this. Everybody thinks you’re an asshole.”
“I appreciate that.”
I watched her make the rounds. She would whisper in someone’s ear. They would make eye contact with me. Then, the nodding would begin, and I knew they had just received the second half of the story. The rest of the night went just fine. Her friend was good enough to make sure they got a ride home from someone else to give me a break.
I will never know what was going through her mind.
posted by Very Anonymous Mike at 8:13 PM
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