blog crack

The other day when I was getting a sandwich at Estela's, the best sandwich place in all of SF, I overheard two oh-so-young recent Brown grads (on a side note: why is it that ninety-freakin-percent of both Wesleyan and Brown live in San Francisco? Do they receive a one-way ticket with their diploma upon graduation or something?) talking about their proms and how they didn't go and how glad they were that they had skipped it and blah blah blah (translation: they couldn't find dates and were still trying to justify to themselves, five years after the fact, why it was "okay" that they had missed out one of the most important rites of passages in their young lives).

Personally, I loved the freakin' prom. PROM rocked. You know those moments, those rare moments in your life during which, all of a sudden, you have a moment of clarity in which you experience absolute contentment? Sometimes it could be at a party and some song'll start playing and all of sudden you'll get transported to this amazingly happy plane and you'll look over at friend and know they are on the same level and you'll both just smile. Well that was prom for me. It was the world at my feet.

It was the end of an incredibly hard year full of change. Classes were over. I had gotten into a great school. Track season had ended (I was a captain =>). Of course, then there was the whole incident in which I was "outed" as a lesbian... Long story short. We were hanging out at a track meet, I was going on about the whole "needing a date" bullshit for prom (this was, of course, because I had no date. I had really wanted to go with one of my best friends Steve L. but he had already gotten asked out by someone else. Damn you, Steve, damn you).

Anyways, I was saying that people should just bring their friends if they wanted to. One such friend, a girl, was all "I would totally love to go to prom!" To which I said, "You know what? Fuck it. You should come with me! It'll be awesome."
Bad move, Anhoni. Bad move. Some asshole (Kyle W.) overheard the last bit of this conversation and before I knew it, the next day the entire school thought I was a lesbian (of which I am not -- not that there's anything wrong with that) who was going to prom with a girl (again, also straight) whom I had asked to come as my lesbian lover. I had suddenly become a Queer figurehead. Ah, the memories!

Teachers gave me encouraging nods, as if to say "Stay strong, young sista, stay strong!" I got secretive little pep talks and one or two people even credited me for their coming out of the closet. No one believed me (except my friends) when I said "Dudes, I'm totally not a lesbian." Needless to say, this didn't help any in the getting a date for prom quest. Or maybe it did and I just didn't know it; we all know how guys are into that sort of thing.

Well, I panicked and decided to not go with my friend after all, deciding to ask another friend, David R., if he wanted to come instead. I thought I was pretty clear that I had no ulterior motives and that I was very much NOT interested in him as a boyfriend or anything of the sort, but, of course, he thought I had the hots for him anyways and proceeded to start acting weird, in the way adolescent boys are wont to do, for the rest of the remaining year and through all of prom itself. But that was just fine because I was...otherwise occupied with someone else during prom. But more on that later. Ahem.

Contributing to my Queer figurehead status, I was also the first girl to ever attend Prom wearing a pair of slacks (I wore a very tasteful DKNY ensemble). Again more nods from the teachers. It also didn't help that my mother decided to give me what she liked to call a "haircut" right before the anticipated event. I had a cute little bob, I came out of the Patel Salon with a decidedly butch boy cut. Ugh. It was the penultimate bad hair day look.

But even with all this crap, I still had the time of my life. I was with my best friends with whom I shared a stretch limo. I felt beautiful and carefree and it was the spring evenings of all evenings. We went predictably ape shit on the limo drive over and I felt an amazing pull towards one of my friend's charming dates (he was a childhood friend and they weren't going as a couple per say) who I just couldn't get enough of.

Prom was held in this great loft in Soho, the same place where they filmed the party scenes in When Harry Met Sally, and we had this amazing view of the city as the sun went down and twilight settled over the town. When I looked out onto the vista, I felt as if the whole world was laid out before me and it was full of nothing but opportunities. I could go anywhere and do anything. You know what I mean? That feeling you get (most often) when you are young and anything and everything is yet possible. I was absolutely brimming with that feeling.

The food was delicious and the music was amazing and even though my stupid, arrogant "date" refused to dance with me, my friend's date was more than obliged to do so. Afterwards, we hopped back into the limo and went clubbing all night then went to a classmates and had breakfast at 7am and then drove out to the beach where we reveled in the night and nursed our hopes.

It is one of my most cherished memories. Particularly for all that it represented and all the dreams of contentment that it held. I'll say it again. Prom was one of the best nights. Ever.

What was your prom like?