TP Insurance

Over the course of the next few posts we are going to time travel and chronologically revisit some of the most hilarious occurrences throughout my high school and college years.  Let's start with the fall of 1997, football season at Edgewater High School.

Before each football game, my friends and I would have our pre-game meal at a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant.  There's nothing like All You Can Eat Tacos before rooting for our team.  We would typically gorge ourselves and then head over to watch the Eagles lose (at the time we were not very good).  It was a delicate process, eating as much as possible without crossing the diarrhea-during-the-game line.  Although delicious, grease is not subtle on the GI tract.

One particular weekend, we were playing our cross-town rivals.  We all stuffed ourselves with Mexican goodness and hopped into the car.  On this night, I happened to be riding with two of my best friends: Bale was driving, I was in the passenger seat, and Spanky was in the back.  We made Spanky sit in the back because he wore Birkenstocks with socks (or BirkenSocks as we called them), a doubly ridiculous ensemble.  He was to sit in the back and think about what he had done.  As we approached the stadium, I realized that I didn't have enough cash to get into the game.  We told the rest of the group to go ahead as the three of us brainstormed.  There was a construction site behind the guest bleachers, and in our estimation, we would only need to hop one fence to get into the game for free.  

Bale pulled the car around to the back of the construction site.  I got out of the car and scouted out the path.  When I turned around I noticed that Spanky was still in the car.  "Come on Stocks n' Socks!" I yelled.  Spanky did not look well.  "I can't move, if I do, I might crap in my pants", he said as he squeezed his cheeks together keeping a flood of Mexicans from breaching the border.  Luckily there was a Port-o-potty at the construction site.  Spanky cautiously got out of the car and waddled his way over to the Port-o-potty.  He walked as if he was in a potato sack race and didn't quite understand the strategy involved.  I can not describe to you the horrifying sounds that echoed through the vents when Spanky entered that little plastic room.  

Of course, Bale and I took full advantage of the situation.  We rocked the Port-o-potty back and forth until it came off of the base, we took running starts and dive bombed into the plastic walls (the walls bowed in so much that we were able to knock him off the seat a few times), and we tried to call as much attention to Spanky's situation as possible.

Finally, after about ten minutes, Spanky came out of the Port-o-potty looking a little relieved and a lot embarrassed.  At this point, we could finally hop the fence and go into the game.  When we got to the fence I noticed something strange when Spanky put his foot up on it.  His socks were missing.  "Spanky, what happened to your socks?" I asked.  "I wasn't wearing any socks" he replied.  Simultaneously, Bale and I recounted every last detail regarding teasing him about his BirkenSocks earlier that evening.  There was no way he could fool us.  I asked again "Spanky, what happened to your socks?".  "OK, OK!" he yelled "I did have socks on, but when I got in the Port-o-potty I realized there was no toilet paper.  I didn't know what to do, it was real nasty, I had no choice!  I had to use them!"  Bale and I laughed as a little vomit came up in the back of our throats.  But Spanky did not stop there, "I don't have any underwear on either, I had to use that too!"  This was evident as I looked up while he straddled the top of the fence.

Maybe Bale and I were wrong.  On that night, the functionality of clothing items took precedent over aesthetics.  From that night forward I have never criticized anyone for wearing BirkenSocks, it's just toilet paper insurance, quite brilliant actually.