Today, in the spirit of spring break, I’d like to share a story that is not so much a prank. But then again, it is. Probably because yours truly is not the star of this show…
…at least not in the way I’d like to be.
East Chicago Washington High – Spring 1985
There is that point during your senior year of high school where every college-bound student excitedly announces to all if they’ve been accepted at a university, especially if it’s their institution of choice. For many of the students at East Chicago Washington High, much of that celebration was in knowing that your classmate(s) would be joining you at the local favorites like Purdue, Indiana University, Illinois, etc.
And at first, I wanted to join them; spend the next four yours with many of the people I knew and loved, continuing my adventures. I later decided that I wanted to start fresh in a place where no one knew me and/or could not judge me.
So, it was a real surprise to many when I announced that I had been accepted at Florida A&M University, an HBCU (Historically Black Colleges and Universities) and that I would be trying out for the Incomparable “Marching 100” band. I had also considered the Oberlin Conservatory of Music, but to me, this was a more exciting challenge.
And for most of my male friends, all we thought about was the chance to meet those Florida girls.
For weeks, I talked about how I couldn’t wait to sit in the classroom and look out of the window to watch people surfing and playing on the beach. Yeah, I know that sounds stupid, but we were typical high school students, and our imaginations ran illogically wild. Nobody really thought about the fact that Tallahassee was nowhere near the coast and that one would have to drive a few hours to truly enjoy the famous beaches (Panama City Beach was two hours west and the trip to Jacksonville was three in the opposite direction).
But that didn’t change the fact that I would be meeting new girls, girls, GIRLS!
But enough about that. Let’s jump ahead to FAMU, freshman year. Because this is where the story truly begins and takes place.
Good Pranks Gone Wrong (Ep. 7): April POOL! -aka- Spring Break Him In
Florida A&M University, Tallahassee, FL 1986 – Spring Break
Being in the sunshine state was cool enough, but I hadn’t really realized that, come spring break, the real party was down south at Daytona Beach. I’d seen it in plenty movies, sure, but now, it was about to become a reality.
By the time spring break had rolled around, my head had been filled with so many stories that all I could think about were my own debaucherous adventures, which had yet to be experienced. All that was needed was a ride down.
As the weekend approached, I learned that as a freshman, opportunities for travel weren’t as easy as it was for people who had been there for some time, having built a wealth of friends. My first four months were spent studying intently and practicing/traveling/performing with the marching and jazz bands. My friends were mostly comprised of bandmembers and study buddies. Problem was, most band members intent on venturing out were traveling in full cars. Most of my study partners were students, loyal to their education, with no intentions of missing out on a week of uninterrupted study time.
There was the option of the free campus bus ride down, but as much as I had traveled by bus to get to and from college from East Chicago, and with all the band trips I’d endured, I was hoping for an alternative means of transportation. Besides, knowing me I’d have missed my ride back because I got stuck on the wrong side of town.
While sitting in the cafeteria talking about spring break activities and the fact that time was running short, Joy (a gorgeous Junior I had befriended whose real name has been changed for purposes of anonymity – you know the drill) began enlightening me about the other events in and around campus that were just as exciting, some, by invitation only.
And I became particularly interested when I learned that she (and many of her cute friends) had no intentions of traveling south because there were so many parties in Florida’s capital city.
“You don’t need to go to the beach to play in the water, Kenny,” she told me with a sexy smirk. “You obviously have never hung out in the campus pool after hours.”
Of course, we all know what happed once that later became one of my favorite practices (click here to read, “You Know You’re A Real 80s Florida A&M Rattler When…”).
“Oh REALLY?” I responded inquisitively, mouth full of cheeseburger.
“Really,” she said convincingly, smiling at one of her friends. I loved sitting at tables with just women. “You can hook up with US.”
May I have your attention please? The Daytona Beach trip is now officially canceled. Please redirect all libidinous plans and energy to the FAMU pool party, running all day, every day, next week.
When I asked which day she’d be there, she told me that Monday afternoon, during which time she, and all of her friends, would be there.
She wasn’t lying, either.
I got there sometime around 4, having spent the morning on Florida State’s campus, girl watching. FSU was a casual 30-minute walk away (yes, the campuses are that close to each other) and a great place to be once the warm weather kicked in.
That was one part about our high school fantasies that we got right.
Thank you, band scholarship…
I saw Joy, who waved at me energetically before motioning for me to join everybody. She was at the shallow end, dancing in the water to Janet Jackson’s “Control” album, which was playing on someone’s super-sized boom box.
“Bring those sexy shorts on in here,” one of her friends yelled out as everyone laughed. I was wearing a pair of bright orange shorts that had become popular with track runners, purchased at the university bookstore. The polyester material gave off a silky finish, especially in the bright sun.
Looking to impress, I kicked off my flipflops, threw my white mesh tank top over to the side, then walked over to the diving board and turned sideways at a 45° angle with my hands on my hips.
“Hurry up and get in the pool before I push you, boy!” one of the guys angrily shot as he stood behind me at the board’s base. I leered back at him silently and quickly before jumping up and down on the board’s edge, bouncing hard before leaping into the air for a somersault and a painful belly flop. All to the attendees’ amusement.
As everyone laughed, I swam to the shallow end to join most of the women, content that I had produced the desire response. Joy met me with a hug as I took in the scene in the pool, which was comprised of about 60% women. Not shocking, since the women outnumbered the men on campus and most guys were headed down south, if they weren’t already there.
We frolicked in the water for a good half hour, dancing to Janet Jackson songs, dancing, throwing beach balls and frisbees around and chicken fighting (girl sits on a boy’s shoulder and locks hands with another girl as they each try to pull one another off of their horse and into the water).
Joy had already introduced me to several of her friends as “Kenny, the new kid”. Each one smiled as she shook my hand, some giving me a welcoming hug as she had. It wasn’t long before my hugs with the opposite sex had to be made at that same 45° as the diving board for fear that recent developments would become apparent. It had already been discovered by one of partygoers who gave me a sly smile but said nothing.
May I have your attention please? Warning: cold swimming pool water does NOT have the same effect as a cold shower.
And it was that same girl who swam away and asked me if I was coming back to the other end. The moment she asked, several of the girls, including Joy, made their way over.
Being that kid in a candy store, I quickly followed.
While talking with the girls, I noticed that the guys were on the side of the pool or the shallow end, talking to girls and casually looking my direction. That only made me happier because I was enjoying not having to compete with anyone to get to know any of lovely ladies who were singing along to “Funny How Time Flies”, the last track of the cassette, which would end for a short time until the cassette’s auto-reverse function kicked it back over to side A to play again from the beginning, as it had already done once since my arrival.
“He must be the new kid,” someone said, standing at the steps to the diving board, causing me to pivot around, having heard that several times before. As I spun back around to the girls, I noticed that the activity on my end had changed. In fact, it was directed at me.
All of the girls around me had stopped playing and were just swimming in place, wading with an intent stare.
Of course, my stupid ass thought they were INTO me.
May I have your attention please? I am a moron.
A girl from my side quickly swam against me and wrapped her arm around me, holding me tightly, under my arms. That’s when others, God only knows where they came from, swam up from beneath, pulling at my shorts.
“Hey, waitaminute!” I screamed, reducing my paddling to one arm as I fought to keep my shorts in place.
“Get him, y’all!” one of the girls laughed as she sat on the side of the pool.
More girls wrapped around my upper torso as I brought my other skinny limb down, trying to safely fight them off. All to no avail. At this point, I had been pulled underwater, having stopped my kicking so as to not inadvertently knee someone in the face. There had to be 6 or 7 of them in on the battle.
Part of me was terrified of losing my shorts, knowing that my secret had already been revealed to those underwater. The remainder of me was embarrassingly having the time of my life.
Welcome to Florida, Kenny!
Running out of air, having expelled the last of my oxygen from being tickled, I cupped my hands and frantically pulled against the water, getting me back to the top. Reaching the air, I took in a huge gulp of it, inhaling deeply, then coughing violently as much of the splashing water entered my mouth and airway.
Everyone cheered as I recomposed myself just in time to see my orange polyester buddy, out of the pool and secured to the fence.
“What the hell?” I screamed out in total surprise. I knew they had left my person, but how they got up on the fence that quickly was beyond me. Then again, the amount of time I spent coughing could have been enough for someone to have auctioned them off. “Somebody bring me my shorts!”
“You want ’em? Go get ’em yourSELF!” another girl challenged as everyone continued howling with laughter. A select few girls and guys just stood there with mouths and eyes wide open. They were just as oblivious to things as I was, BEFORE it all happened.
I swam nervously in place as the guys further encouraged me to get my shorts.
“Be a man!”
“Yo’ dude, git’cho drawz, man. Let them women know what’choo workin’ with!”
“Don’t be no punk, playa!”
I looked at one of the guys laughing nearest me and asked if I was really expected to climb out that pool, if anyone would actually get them for me.
“You can say you aren’t coming out and one of the fellas will get ’em for you,” he advised with a serious face. “Trust me, you don’t want to be that guy.”
“Funny how we can’t do this to girls,” I said in defeat.
“Nope. That would be cruel,” he laughed.
The girls didn’t say a thing. They all stared silently, but for a different reason than before. They were waiting to see what came next…
Welcome to spring break, Kenny.
Epilogue: Joy took me out to dinner and a fun night out the following evening. As did Alice, another one of the friends, later that week. The difference being that Alice invited me over to her apartment for some pork chops and mashed potatoes with turnip greens and cornbread. I will never forget that meal. She was from Mobile, Alabama and believe me, that girl could cook! We sat and ate while watching Cinemax, most of the evening. I guess that was the earlier equivalent to Netflix and chill, being 1986. That’s all I’ll share about that. Movies and a meal.
I know y’all want to know if I got out of the pool and got my shorts. Let’s just say that if you didn’t handle your own business, you weren’t really welcome to hang out with those folks for similar or other events. And since my “April Fool’s” prank had already been exacted, understand that I had no intentions of missing out on all kinds of things that week. Even the pool hangouts the rest of the week and subsequent years, which were at an off-campus location and only happened at night.
In fact, it wasn’t until 1988 that I finally went to Daytona Beach with two other buddies. I was perfectly content going to pool parties in Tallahassee. Because I was no longer “the new guy”.
But that’s another story…
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