When Things Aren’t as They Seem
Scrolling through my Threads feed, a post caught my eye. A full-size bear in the China Zoo was standing upright. The caption said it was a bear, but it sure looked like a man in a costume.
Moving along, I notice another post. This one was more typical, featuring teenagers behaving badly at a concert. Rather than going to a place of judgment, my immediate thought was gratitude.
“Thank goodness there was no social media when we were teenagers!”
Although my classmates and I enjoy rehashing our teenage shenanigans in the 80s, I can’t imagine how they would have looked through the lens of social media. Some definitely represented poor behavior, but others, when viewed from the outside, were rarely what they seemed.
An example of this was in 1981, our freshman year. With the introduction of high school fall sports, we were also orientated to locker room etiquette. Volleyball practice ended with girls from all grades sharing the girls’ locker room. In the 80s, there wasn’t a second thought about taking group showers or changing clothes openly in front of each other.
There was one unspoken protocol: the upperclassman showered first, with us lowly freshmen waiting our turn last. After a practice early in the season, beginning to feel more comfortable in our newbie skin, we were goofing in the showers. The upperclassmen were showered, changed, and gone. The freshmen girls were alone, free to enjoy the silliness of our fading youth.
Launching bars of soap on each other, we giggled, splashing under the pouring shower heads. My friends exited the water fight one by one, leaving just me and another friend in the shower. By this time, we noticed it wasn’t draining properly. Instead, there was an accumulation of long-running water hitting the eight-inch ridge.
Still laughing at our water antics, we began kicking water onto each other. Playfully splashing on the water growing in height, our nakedness was seemingly invisible. My friend suddenly slipped into the water and comedically recovered by appearing to be swimming in a baby pool. Joining her, I flung myself down into the shower pool. We began swimming on our stomachs, reenacting some weird form of synchronized swimming.
Our laughs were cut short when we noticed an upperclassman staring at us from the locker room door. She must have come back to retrieve a forgotten item. Looking at us in horror, she quickly retreated.
I have no idea if or to whom this upperclassman repeated the story of the two naked freshmen slopping around on the shower floor. A video of our antics would have been quite the Tik Tok sensation today. Although I didn’t have to worry about having a video post removed, I did become more conscious of the importance of appearances, especially when naked.
Things are not always as they seem.
By my junior year, I had matured some. I was now thinking before I acted. Well, at least, typically.
Alcohol added a new dimension to our teenage decision-making. Our go-to activity during fair-weather weekends was a kegger on a country gravel road. The location chosen was remote, hoping to be unreachable by the town cops. This strategy was not always successful.
These were the golden years before cell phones and social media. We were wary of the occupants with every approaching headlight, given there was no communication means to send out an early warning. Were they a carload of Remsen teens joining the party, or the cops coming to bust it? This was the question asked with every sound of tire crunching gravel.
One fall night in 1983, a large group gathered on a gravel road east of town. The location for our party was not far out of town, so we were on heightened alert for incoming vehicles. The keg was filled with Bud Light, with the partygoers mainly my junior classmates. That year our class totaled 44 students with an added +1, our foreign exchange student, Charles Sulocki.
Charlie was funny, clever, and cute. Coming from Sweden, he brought us Midwestern kids insight into a culture we did not know existed; from music to clothing, we were enamored with our new classmate. I was at the top of this list.
Enjoying our beers, Charlie and I chatted at the kegger. Our conversation included just the two of us. With the blare of oncoming headlights, someone shouted, “COPS!!!”
Instinctively all the teen partygoers either ran or hid. Charles and I jumped into the ditch. In hiding, we remained still in the tall grass, awaiting our fate. After several minutes of no movement, a yell finally emerged. “False call! Not the cops but another keg!”
The silence quickly turned to shuffling feet on gravel with loud conversations ensuing above us. Lying in the grass, Charles and I burst out laughing. Instead of getting up, we continued our conversation about his life in Sweden vs. Iowa while sitting side by side in the comfort of the cool grass. Sharing more laughs, we soon found our red Solo cups empty. It was time to join the rest of our crew by the keg.
Charles climbed out of the ditch first, holding my hand to support me up to a high incline. Together we rose from the ditch, finding ourselves under the bright lights of a car and the unintended center of attention.
Our classmates welcomed us back to the party with hoots, hollers, and clapping.
“Wow! Charles and Sandy having some fun in the ditch!! Nice work, Charlie!”
Me: “No, no, no…it’s not what you think!! We were just talking. NOTHING HAPPENED!”
The more defensive I got, the louder they cheered. Charles was the smart one by remaining silent. I finally followed his lead, filling my beer amidst the taunting.
The Charles and Sandy ditch story stayed with us through the rest of the school year. Although never an item, we maintained our close friendship. Our class 20-year reunion brought Charles back to the States for a visit. We had an amazing turnout that year including the addition of Charles, our beloved foreign exchange student.
The class of 1985 had a great time as we laughed, sang, and drank beer. Just like the good old days. But instead of a gravel road, we were having our fun legally at our town’s golf club. Seated for dinner, we began the night by going around the room giving a life update, and sharing a favorite memory from high school.
When it was Charles’ turn, we were eager to see where his life took him. He shared how he was an officer in the British Army, currently single while living a life full of adventure in the great outdoors. As he went to sit down, someone shouted, “Charles, you need to tell your favorite high school memory!”
Charles: “Oh, that’s easy. It was making out with Sandy in the ditch.”
Above the roars of laughter, I tried to tell my classmates that Charlie was just being funny. Nothing happened. Really.
Finally resigning myself to the humor, I stood up and played along.
Me: “Yep, that really was a great night.”
The laughter heightened. Smiling and sitting back in my chair, I came to accept a simple fact of life. People would rather have a good story even when things aren’t as they seem.
Charles’ homemade tattoo on the fun night of our class reunion (and continuing the folklore of our infamous night in the ditch).
Written on the back of the photo:
"Sandy, the first thing I want to say is "you're simply special. May you always turn boys heads walking down the hall talking Japanese! RMA as the cocky, lax and foul mouthed x-change student from Sweden. May we always remember our ditch experience. Love, Chuck"
Photos from the 2005 class reunion for the Class of 85 (note no pictures or videos are available for naked swimming in the shower or the ditch episode in the 80s)…
