You Have Stolen My Theme Song

In which we shall see: The PROM. And resting demons. Also, punch.

* * *

Preface: I think I've been cured.

Prologue: I never went to The PROM in high school. I may have mentioned this before (quite possibly to everyone I have ever met. "Hi, I'm Charisse. Nice to meet you. I was never asked to the Prom, and my entire life has been scarred and twisted because of it. Pity me, and find me a tiara. So, where do you work?" or something to that effect). After I graduated, I decided that someday I would date a high school teacher, so that when he had to chaperone The PROM I could attend with him and semi-vicariously fulfill the misspent purpose of my secondary educational existence. (Ahem.) Things didn't quite work out that way - instead, I started working at a school and I found (to my delight) that the faculty were invited to the formal dance (not called The PROM, which was perhaps a sign or omen... hmm...) and even fed a catered meal beforehand. I had a blind date about two weeks before the dance and things went well, so I asked him to attend with me. He agreed, and then I never heard from him again. Having been stood up for my first ever PROM-like activity, I ended up taking my brother as my date. Honestly, we had a pretty good time (and the food was great) and from there we went to an Army Band dance in Park City... but the fact remains that, essentially, I took my (younger) BROTHER to the PROM.

The next year I didn't get a date - I just went for the food, and the view from the top floor of the Wells Fargo Building. The year after that, my roommate and I got all dressed up, went to the dinner, and then ditched the dance and went to a movie. The following year that same roommate was scheduled to chaperone The PROM at the school where she worked, and one of her now-husband's friends (someone I knew from college, actually) agreed to go as my date. We really had a good time - got some dancing in, and had a great after-dance meal. A few days later my roommate told me that my date had told her that he would never really date me, as he felt I was exceptionally pushy (based on an experience in college, 10+ YEARS ago). So, essentially, my first full-on PROM experience was a pity date.

The following year I had started working at a Performing Arts high school, and the faculty all attended the Homecoming formal. I took a friend with me, and we had a blast - we were complete goofballs (our interpretive dance to a Fergie song made it into the End-of-the-Year video, even). At the end of the evening, over fries at Sonic, he asked me for the phone number of the choir teacher*. Klassy.

This year, my friend asked me to cover for her as she had signed up to chaperone The PROM, but obviously wouldn’t make it to the dance as her due date was only three days before. (BTW, she had the baby – and what with her poor knee and being induced and all the drugs that her system and the kid did NOT like and the emergency C-section it was rather a horrific experience – and all is now well… or at least, well-er… The baby is healthy, and my friend can now spend time recovering from the various surgeries that have and will continue to come her way. Cute kid, though.) I had nearly five months notice, and still couldn’t manage to find an actual date. I did have a couple of friends that would have been willing to go with me, but I’m kinda tired of the “bring a friend” “date”, plus one of them is currently in a show for which he has long hair – and my students said he could only come with me to the dance if he showed up in full costume as a pirate (you have to admit, that would have been AWESOME). I also could have brought a blind date (via my friend, the no-longer pregnant though still gimpy teacher) but I decided I really didn’t want to add “blind date” to the list of PROM experiences. Instead, I would go by myself and have a great time and beat that adolescent trauma and the resident demons into snoring submission. That’s pretty much what happened. Sorta.

The PROM: So, I spent most of the day getting ready, which was REALLY annoying. I always seem to spend way too much time curling my hair for dressy events, even knowing that I don’t actually like the way my hair looks when it’s all curly and fluffy. I curled and I fluffed and I hated it, and then ended up straightening out the curl and fighting for another 45 minutes to find a ‘do I could live with. In the end I looked fine – for once, I don’t think I came across as “trying to hard”. That was a nice change, and it only took 5 hours to accomplish! Then I visited my friend in the hospital and got to hold the baby and hear the entire story of the wretched labor saga – once again, I really don’t feel badly about not having children. Nope. Then off to The PROM, which was being held at the State Capitol (a place I’d actually never been before, but was definitely interested in visiting for the dance).

I helped take tickets, I helped at the refreshments table, I got my PROM picture with as many of my students (and various dates) as I could round up, and I even danced a little. One of the boys in my Productions class asked me to dance during the last song (the theme: “You Have Stolen My Heart”) while his date was in the bathroom (I turned him over to her as soon as she got back), and then I danced for about two seconds with the Student Body President (who is hilarious and on the Improv Team). How’s that for the pinnacle of a pseudo-high school career? I danced with the SBP!

I think it was a good thing I didn’t bring a date – the refreshments table was crazy, and with all the helping out there wouldn’t really have been time to talk to a blind date or even to dance or have fun with a friend-date. Just watching all those kids actually made me glad, once again, that I’m not actually in high school, and reminded me that I don’t want to stay a high school teacher. I can’t wait to see my picture, though – It’ll look something like this:

Pertinent Phacts:
- The theme song, as mentioned, was “You Have Stolen My Heart”, probably by various people but most recently by Dashboard Confessional. It has been playing over the PA before each class EVERY DAY THIS WEEK.
- The colors were black and green, so the refreshments were mint brownies (yummy!) and green punch – it was lime and wheatgrass. NOT KIDDING.
- The most fascinating aspect of the dance was the ice sculpture on the refreshments table – it had a spiral pipe frozen into the center of it, and if you poured punch into a hole in the top it would flow through the pipe and out a spigot at the bottom, where you then had to catch it in a cup. YOU HAD TO POUR IT MANUALLY, and it was fairly high to reach the hole in the ice at the top – and the kids thought it was the coolest thing EVER (no pun intended).
- You can, in fact, get 900+ people in the Capitol Building main hall and still have room for six photo setups AND space to dance (at least around the edges).
- I actually got in trouble with a couple of other chaperones when one of my students accidentally knocked my cup off the balcony banister (fortunately the cup was empty at the time) – my PROM experience is complete.
- Going stag to The PROM evidently does not make you a complete loser (at least not if you’re a chaperone) – I totally got hit on by one of the security guards at the end of the event. He asked me out for coffee. Oops.

Postlude: (yes, I know it’s not the right term, but “Epilogue” didn’t fit with the “theme” ((P’s!)) and as we all know, The PROM is all about the THEME.) So that’s over, and I feel fairly confident that closure has been achieved, and those particular demons are snoozing contentedly with their orchid wrist corsages tucked under their pillows. I wasn’t really considering it until just now, but it’s entirely possible that I will wear my PROM outfit to church tomorrow (along with my fake eyelashes, since I don’t actually have a corsage). That’s what we did in “my” day after fancy dances, you know - the real trick was sleeping so as to disrupt your curly, fluffy updo as little as possible, and pray that the hairspray held up for all three hours of meetings. Talk about kicking your childhood trauma in the teeth! I feel so empowered.

Although I’m not too sure how I feel about the wheatgrass.

Watch out for falling turtles and punch cups,


Cyd


*Yes, Ricky, I know there were extenuating circumstances, such as the fact that I had been planning to set you up with the choir teacher and part of the reason for taking you to the dance was so you could meet her, but it makes a better story if I tell it this way, OK? You know I love you and your awesome "formal" jacket. Also, it WAS slightly tacky for you to bring it up that way, and YOU KNOW IT.