Monday, March 8, 2010

Memoir Monday: The One Where I Channel Jet Li. Oh, And Get Sent Away.

(Hey guys and gals. It's Memoir Monday time! This is where you write down a story about yourself, steal my button down there, drink a beer, and call it all a win. The only rule is that it has to be true, other than that, there are no rules. I need you to join this week! Once you post, let me know, and I will link you up down there for all my kick ass bloggy followers to go and read! Y'all are the greatest, and I love you. If you want to see all the Memoir Monday posts, just click on the brand new button!! I'd also like to add here that this would be the ORIGINAL Memoir Monday, not any of this other supah bullshit copy meme stuff. So yeah. Imitation and flattery and all that jazz, right?)




Most of you know how I was brought up. Very religious, very strict, but I have to say, I had it better than most folks. My dad never punched me or put out cigarettes on my arms, although he did shake me once. 

In all fairness, I was about 15, and I deserved it. I also learned a valuable lesson. When you choose to finally bo up to your father, make sure you're not standing IN a shed, with him at the door. When he got a hold on me, he said, "Son, the day you choose to fight your father will be the day that you are wrong. It will also be the day you get your butt KICKED." 

I believed him.

My mom has never stolen money from me for drugs, and has never had a "How Many Dudes Can I Bang Tonight/Tupperware" party at her house. 

My parents were strict, but they loved me, and I'm incredibly grateful for the way I was raised.  

But anyway, my dad was on the school board. It was a hard fought campaign, and he won by a pretty good margin. He served as the vice president until his death. 

I was kind of a calm kid, but I liked attention. I was never "cool" or "popular." I was of the mid level ilk, and I was just fine with that. I fit in with everybody. I was the Ellen Degeneres of my high school. Only, you know, not gay. 

I was in the band. 

[insert band nerd joke here]

Say what you will, but I was a MEAN trumpet player. First chair, baby! To this day, I can still play "Wipe Out" with no sheet music whatsoever. I was LEGIT. 

Our band teacher was someone who liked to cry a lot. She was pretty cool as band teachers go, but for sure, if you so much as blew a wrong note, she'd cry like she'd just sat on a thumbtack...which happened one time. (I was not at fault)

Band geeks are pretty much just that. Retarded. You've all heard of my experience with seeing boobs for the first time on a band bus. If you haven't, click that sentence. I even illustrated it for you, although I must say, it's probably not something you want your boss seeing. 

One day, I was walking to the band room, and I was running a bit late. Some smart ass idiot freshman thought it would be funny to lock me out of the room and make me tardy. Since I didn't want to be tardy, and since I was a pretty big guy, I decided to use some intimidation tactics. 

"IF YOU DON'T LET ME IN THERE, I WILL KICK THE DOOR DOWN!"

Instead of making the kid open the door, it had the opposite effect. 

"Oh my god, kick it down, Travis! Kick it down!" 
"Yeah! Kick it down!" 
"That would be so cool! Kick it down!"
"You won't do it, Travis. You won't!"

Now listen. This was right around the time that I discovered Jet Li. I was HOOKED, y'all. I mean, I watched that man kick so much ass in Lethal Weapon 4, and Romeo Must Die was about to come out, and I was a FAN. Plus, I'd pretty much been triple dog dared into doing it. And you don't back down from that. 

This was the opportunity I had been waiting for. 

So I backed up a bit, then I flew at that door foot first and I gave it THA BIDNESS. 

I don't really know what I was expecting. Actually, I do. I was expecting to be bounced back by a sturdily placed door. But that isn't what happend. 

The door FLEW off the frame like it had been hit by a tornado. Kids were screaming, the teacher was screaming, wood chips were flying, I'm pretty sure the door hit a trombone player with the deadbolt. 

SHIT. WAS. EPIC. 

The band teacher started crying and making the sign of the cross, and I'm just standing there in the doorway, basking in it all, watching as little nerd band girls said, "Take me now you big strong brute" and licking their flutes suggestively, while the trombone player is noticing that he's going to need a key to operate his instrument now, and it was...GLORIOUS. But at the same time, I knew...I was IN TROUBLE. 

I figured since dad was on the school board, it wouldn't be too bad, and I couldn't have been further from the truth. I got sent to alternative school for a week AND had to pay for the door, all because my dad wanted to make an example out of me for the other students. 

I never did get to see Romeo Must Die until after my dad died. I think that's what hurt the most. 

But I tell you what, watching those little nerdy band girls stare at me in awe while I stood 10 feet tall in that doorway was one of the best moments of my life. 

Worth it. 

Other Non-Broken Doorways To Memory Lane This Week:  (GO READ THEM!)

Quixotic's Memoir Monday: So You Think You Can Dance?

Alex's Memoir Monday: So This Is What Actually Happened.

Ally's Memoir Monday.

Erin's Memoir Monday: Shrinking To Fit; Or Finally Growing A Nice Pair Of Testicles.

BigSis' Memoir Monday: The Two Weekend Wedding.

Josh's Memoir Monday: But I Hate Coffee.

Cassie's Memoir Monday: The Mouse And The Stove. **ROOKIE**

Cajun's Memoir Monday: What Would You Do? Lessons Learned. **ROOKIE**

Kate's Memoir Monday: The Bunker.

LB's Memoir Monday: My Mom Was No June Cleaver, And I Wasn't The Beav.

Sal's Memoir Monday: The Fish Story. 

Angel's Memoir Monday: I Just Had To Tell This One.

Barb's Memoir Monday. **ROOKIE**

Lluvia's Memoir Monday: The Time I Got Fired From A Job

Kate's Memoir Monday: My Favorite Smell. **ROOKIE**

Taylorville's Memoir Monday: Gullible Is So In The Dictionary. **ROOKIE**

Aimee's Memoir Monday: Snips, Snails, And Puppy Dog Tails...And Dead Chicken Fetuses.