More Tales Of Misspent Youth
A Command Performance For Devoted Fans
OK, a request was made for more tales of my wayward youth, and also for a detailed explanation of this post's mention of rugburned knees and buttcheeks.
As for the first, no problem. The second? Not on your life! A gentleman may kiss & hint, but he'll never flat-out kiss & tell! Unless you ply me with many drams of aged bourbon at a future blogmeet. Then, maybe...
OK, the tale of wayward youth gone astray:
The Great Bathroom Tunnel Caper
Three things must ye know about 14 & 15 year old boys...
A) They're horny as a longhorned hornytoad that's just humped a hornbeam tree while humming 'Come Blow My Horn'.
B) They're not getting nearly as much action as they brag about.
c) They'll do almost anything for a glimpse of nekkid female flesh.
With those facts in mind, we'll begin our tale.
I've spoken before of my friend "Rabbit".
Rabbit attended a nearby high school in the same school district. We'd see each other every so often andlie shamelessly compare notes on our amorous encounters.
In Rabbit's defense, he was a good looking guy, and due to a quirk of birthdays, managed to have his driver's license when most of us were still stuck with a learner's permit. This gave him a huge headstart in the girl-chasing arena, since it was a well-known fact that the wimmens preferred to be squired around in a car as opposed to being balanced on your bike's handlebars.
So, armed with a car and a GQ jr. smile, Rabbit was the epitome of a teenage swordsman. When he told us about getting pinned to the hood of his car and ravished by three senior cheerleaders, of course we believed him. His story of nailing a college girl in the old shore battery emplacement on Galveston Island quickly became the stuff of legend.
When he revealed his plan for seeing nekkid wimmen every schoolday, I was awestruck at its audaciousness and simplicity.
Rabbit swore me to secrecy, as he didn't want word getting out about his little Peeping Tom scheme. According to Rabbit, it was possible to... wait... let me back up a bit.
Rabbit and I were both in the marching band at our respective schools. Part of being in band involved daily after-school marching practice. After the last class period during the fall semester, you'd haul ass to the band hall, grab your shorts and T-shirt and change out of your school clothes to better stand 2 hours marching on an asphalt parking lot in late summer Texas heat.
Most often, the bathroom nearest the Band Hall was used for changing, but guys usually just stepped into one of the practice rooms, or just dropped trou back in the instrument room. Girls, on the other hand, virtually always changed in the bathroom.
Rabbit's plan involved hoisting himself up into the drop ceiling over the boy's bathroom, unscrewing the vent off the A/C duct (huge 4' x 4' ducts), crawling along over the intervening maintenance closet, and then re-emerging over the girl's bathroom, whereupon he'd exit the duct, lean out and carefully peek through the light fixtures at the disrobing girls below.
He'd go on in great detail about the mounds of hooters and miles of muff he'd gotten a peek at. He was scornful of our Porky's-inspired suggestion that he dangle his dick from a hole in the ceiling and see who noticed. "Why ruin a semester's entertainment for one quick handjob?" Rabbit asked. Guess he had a point...
Now, I've always been a somewhat observant guy when it comes to what's around me, and I'd known for some time that many of the local schools shared common architecture. It seems there was a boom in school construction in the late 60's and some architectural/construction firm made a mint building the same school all over Texas for various school districts. Ever seen the movie 'Dazed & Confused'? That was filmed at a school in Austin, but it's a carbon copy of both my junior high and high school in Houston.
So, armed with the knowledge of possible similarities in A/C duct & ceiling construction, I took the opportunity during a break in marching practice to tell a few trusted comrades about the possibility of some extracurricular Biology class observational activities.
Surprisingly for teenage boys, we kept the circle of people "in the know" pretty tight. No one wanted half the band trying to wiggle up into the bathroom ceiling tiles. Knowing that most of the guys didn't use the bathroom to change meant we wouldn't have much in the way of random traffic.
So, on the selected day, a small group of boys wrangled their schedules in order to meet in the bathroom right before class let out. The plan was to be up in the ceiling and have the ceiling tile back in place before anyone wandered into either bathroom. We had it planned pretty well. I'd 'borrowed' some tools from Metalshop class to get into the vent, we had a couple of flashlights and a lookout was posted just in case any teacher came by.
The point man was a freshman trombone player named "Brett". He was 'volunteered' to be the first up in the ceiling due to his height and long reach. He was a bit stocky to be climbing into vents, but so was I, now that I think about it...
So, there's 5 of us in the bathroom, one lookout outside, and "Brett" commences to climbing the bathroom stall partitions. He's got the ceiling tiles boosted out of the way, and right away it's evident there's a problem. The A/C vent is maybe 2' x 2', with 12" vent covers, way too small for even a freshman to wiggle into.
That's OK, we're on the job! We'll find a way! "Brett" turns around to see if we can simply crawl along the rafters, such as they are. No dice. The concrete block wall extends up past the drop ceiling. At this moment, the thought occurs to me that Rabbit is completely full of shit, and has been lying his ass off the whole time.
"Brett" thinks there might be a way to climb over the wall, and pulls himself up into the ceiling.
Naturally, that's when the teacher walks into the bathroom.
We got the briefest of warnings. As the door pulled open with its characteristic squeal of poorly maintained hydraulics, we heard the faint holler of "Coming in!", sounding as if it was being yelled by a cowardly lookout as he sprinted in the opposite direction.
There's a privacy wall in the bathroom, fortunately. As you open the door, there's a concrete block wall directly in front of the door with shelves for stashing your textbooks & belongings before you take a leak. You have to walk around one end of the wall before entering the bathroom proper.
I wasn't aware of it at the time, but I now know it's possible for four guys to unzip their Wranglers and jam pelvises up against the urinals in the time it takes someone to walk the 4 steps around that wall.
We might have gotten away clean if there were 5 urinals. With all the pissers taken, though, the teacher had no choice but to go into one of the stalls. Naturally, it was the one that "Brett" was directly above. As soon as the teacher entered the stall, we started hitting the flush levers and making our way towards the door. I mean, my pockets are full of screwdrivers and wrenches, and there's some big honkin' flashlights poking out of other pockets. No use getting caught up in the fallout.
I suppose the teacher had a habit of looking up before he commenced his business, 'cause he had barely gotten into the stall when we heard "Hey! What are you doing up there?? Get down from there!!"
Those of us that had escaped entrapment were slinking towards the bandhall in what we hoped was a nonchalant slinking manner when the teacher hauls open the door and pulls "Brett" along by his collar as they head towards the main office. I've seen some forlorn looks on people's faces before, but "Brett's" was in the top 10.
To his credit, he took the heat and didn't rat us out. His story to the screws was that he hoped to scare some of the upperclassmen in return for their constant low-level hazing perpetrated on the freshmen guys. It still earned him an early morning detention, but today I'm sure a similar stunt would make him a convicted felon.
We never did get our peepshow, and it's probably for the best. Within the year, most of us had girlfriends who were generally amenable to a little bit of peek-a-boo activities!
Oh, and if any of you have daughters at Houston-area high schools, best let 'em know to keep an eye on the ceiling. Rabbit might have been telling the truth...
OK, a request was made for more tales of my wayward youth, and also for a detailed explanation of this post's mention of rugburned knees and buttcheeks.
As for the first, no problem. The second? Not on your life! A gentleman may kiss & hint, but he'll never flat-out kiss & tell! Unless you ply me with many drams of aged bourbon at a future blogmeet. Then, maybe...
OK, the tale of wayward youth gone astray:
The Great Bathroom Tunnel Caper
Three things must ye know about 14 & 15 year old boys...
A) They're horny as a longhorned hornytoad that's just humped a hornbeam tree while humming 'Come Blow My Horn'.
B) They're not getting nearly as much action as they brag about.
c) They'll do almost anything for a glimpse of nekkid female flesh.
With those facts in mind, we'll begin our tale.
I've spoken before of my friend "Rabbit".
Rabbit attended a nearby high school in the same school district. We'd see each other every so often and
In Rabbit's defense, he was a good looking guy, and due to a quirk of birthdays, managed to have his driver's license when most of us were still stuck with a learner's permit. This gave him a huge headstart in the girl-chasing arena, since it was a well-known fact that the wimmens preferred to be squired around in a car as opposed to being balanced on your bike's handlebars.
So, armed with a car and a GQ jr. smile, Rabbit was the epitome of a teenage swordsman. When he told us about getting pinned to the hood of his car and ravished by three senior cheerleaders, of course we believed him. His story of nailing a college girl in the old shore battery emplacement on Galveston Island quickly became the stuff of legend.
When he revealed his plan for seeing nekkid wimmen every schoolday, I was awestruck at its audaciousness and simplicity.
Rabbit swore me to secrecy, as he didn't want word getting out about his little Peeping Tom scheme. According to Rabbit, it was possible to... wait... let me back up a bit.
Rabbit and I were both in the marching band at our respective schools. Part of being in band involved daily after-school marching practice. After the last class period during the fall semester, you'd haul ass to the band hall, grab your shorts and T-shirt and change out of your school clothes to better stand 2 hours marching on an asphalt parking lot in late summer Texas heat.
Most often, the bathroom nearest the Band Hall was used for changing, but guys usually just stepped into one of the practice rooms, or just dropped trou back in the instrument room. Girls, on the other hand, virtually always changed in the bathroom.
Rabbit's plan involved hoisting himself up into the drop ceiling over the boy's bathroom, unscrewing the vent off the A/C duct (huge 4' x 4' ducts), crawling along over the intervening maintenance closet, and then re-emerging over the girl's bathroom, whereupon he'd exit the duct, lean out and carefully peek through the light fixtures at the disrobing girls below.
He'd go on in great detail about the mounds of hooters and miles of muff he'd gotten a peek at. He was scornful of our Porky's-inspired suggestion that he dangle his dick from a hole in the ceiling and see who noticed. "Why ruin a semester's entertainment for one quick handjob?" Rabbit asked. Guess he had a point...
Now, I've always been a somewhat observant guy when it comes to what's around me, and I'd known for some time that many of the local schools shared common architecture. It seems there was a boom in school construction in the late 60's and some architectural/construction firm made a mint building the same school all over Texas for various school districts. Ever seen the movie 'Dazed & Confused'? That was filmed at a school in Austin, but it's a carbon copy of both my junior high and high school in Houston.
So, armed with the knowledge of possible similarities in A/C duct & ceiling construction, I took the opportunity during a break in marching practice to tell a few trusted comrades about the possibility of some extracurricular Biology class observational activities.
Surprisingly for teenage boys, we kept the circle of people "in the know" pretty tight. No one wanted half the band trying to wiggle up into the bathroom ceiling tiles. Knowing that most of the guys didn't use the bathroom to change meant we wouldn't have much in the way of random traffic.
So, on the selected day, a small group of boys wrangled their schedules in order to meet in the bathroom right before class let out. The plan was to be up in the ceiling and have the ceiling tile back in place before anyone wandered into either bathroom. We had it planned pretty well. I'd 'borrowed' some tools from Metalshop class to get into the vent, we had a couple of flashlights and a lookout was posted just in case any teacher came by.
The point man was a freshman trombone player named "Brett". He was 'volunteered' to be the first up in the ceiling due to his height and long reach. He was a bit stocky to be climbing into vents, but so was I, now that I think about it...
So, there's 5 of us in the bathroom, one lookout outside, and "Brett" commences to climbing the bathroom stall partitions. He's got the ceiling tiles boosted out of the way, and right away it's evident there's a problem. The A/C vent is maybe 2' x 2', with 12" vent covers, way too small for even a freshman to wiggle into.
That's OK, we're on the job! We'll find a way! "Brett" turns around to see if we can simply crawl along the rafters, such as they are. No dice. The concrete block wall extends up past the drop ceiling. At this moment, the thought occurs to me that Rabbit is completely full of shit, and has been lying his ass off the whole time.
"Brett" thinks there might be a way to climb over the wall, and pulls himself up into the ceiling.
Naturally, that's when the teacher walks into the bathroom.
We got the briefest of warnings. As the door pulled open with its characteristic squeal of poorly maintained hydraulics, we heard the faint holler of "Coming in!", sounding as if it was being yelled by a cowardly lookout as he sprinted in the opposite direction.
There's a privacy wall in the bathroom, fortunately. As you open the door, there's a concrete block wall directly in front of the door with shelves for stashing your textbooks & belongings before you take a leak. You have to walk around one end of the wall before entering the bathroom proper.
I wasn't aware of it at the time, but I now know it's possible for four guys to unzip their Wranglers and jam pelvises up against the urinals in the time it takes someone to walk the 4 steps around that wall.
We might have gotten away clean if there were 5 urinals. With all the pissers taken, though, the teacher had no choice but to go into one of the stalls. Naturally, it was the one that "Brett" was directly above. As soon as the teacher entered the stall, we started hitting the flush levers and making our way towards the door. I mean, my pockets are full of screwdrivers and wrenches, and there's some big honkin' flashlights poking out of other pockets. No use getting caught up in the fallout.
I suppose the teacher had a habit of looking up before he commenced his business, 'cause he had barely gotten into the stall when we heard "Hey! What are you doing up there?? Get down from there!!"
Those of us that had escaped entrapment were slinking towards the bandhall in what we hoped was a nonchalant slinking manner when the teacher hauls open the door and pulls "Brett" along by his collar as they head towards the main office. I've seen some forlorn looks on people's faces before, but "Brett's" was in the top 10.
To his credit, he took the heat and didn't rat us out. His story to the screws was that he hoped to scare some of the upperclassmen in return for their constant low-level hazing perpetrated on the freshmen guys. It still earned him an early morning detention, but today I'm sure a similar stunt would make him a convicted felon.
We never did get our peepshow, and it's probably for the best. Within the year, most of us had girlfriends who were generally amenable to a little bit of peek-a-boo activities!
Oh, and if any of you have daughters at Houston-area high schools, best let 'em know to keep an eye on the ceiling. Rabbit might have been telling the truth...
posted by El Capitan | 3:14 PM
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