Visions of Feathers and Jheri Curls Dancing in My Head

One More Knight. Aptly titled, this was equally the name of our school mascot (Knights), as well as our Phil Collins inspired song, that allowed us into our first foray into the Black Tie world of a Formal - Prom Night.

My prom was equally fun, and bizarre. For starters, I had three guys ask me. The first one, I wasn't sure if he was planning on getting his Jheri curl redone for the festivities, nor did I have the heart to ask him. The second one, he wasn't tall enough (I was 5'10" at the time), and would have towered over him with my pumps. The third one, well, let's just say I wasn't sure if I would even make it to the prom. He was what we called, at least, on the West Coast, a slanging brother, someone who was too slick for his own good and me being virgin-AL personality, I declined him with a quickness.

I decided to ride solo. I have always been a relative loner; what difference did it make when it came to my prom. So, my friend Gretchen (who was going with a good friend) decided to roll together. I had also chosen an unconventional color - black.

Black, you say? Why, P, what's the problem with black?

Glad you asked. In the decade that I graduated in, what was hot on the streets was pink and peach pastels. With obsence looking fishtails, outrageous puffy sleeves, and equally disturbing hairstyles. Accompanied by airbrushed nails and satin shoes to boot, we were indeed, a sight for sore eyes. My mother kept asking me was I sure this was what I wanted; to which I said. . .YES.

Making a long story short, I showed up at the prom solo (after arriving of course, with Gretchen and her dude), and I (along with the dress) was a HIT. Let me tell you this; everyone looked FANTASTIC - I just think that people were more surprised at the COLOR more than anything. But the dress WAS nice; One sleeve, satin, slit in the back, rhinestones (sounds cheezy but wasn't at the time) Seven (count 'em) SEVEN guys came up to me telling me they wanted to ask me out, but they thought I had a college boyfriend; they indicated they would be happy to pose with me, to which I promptly declined. I took my picture before my Fashion Fair/Flori Roberts inspired makeup wore off, and my feather started to droop.

The night went smoothly; Update on the brothers who asked me:

1. Jheri curl did, indeed, get his hair done for the festivities, and looked great with his little Emerald green vest on. So did his date.

2. Napoleon Complex looked equally dazzling with his Tux. And his date had on Electric Blue with some Satin Pumps.

But the piece de resistance came from the #3 Dates - the slanger, the baller. THIS MUTHA FUCKA asked another girl at our school to go to the prom - AND BROUGHT ANOTHER GIRL FROM ANOTHER SCHOOL AND LEFT THE OTHER ONE STRANDED AT HOME. . .

Everyone was pissed - Both female AND Male (after the guys stopped drooling over the light skin long hair foolishness). His other date eventually showed up and was let in, and it was on and cracking then. Let's just say that him AND his date had to be escorted out of the prom, eventually. Me, being me, I was loving every minute of it (except for the fact that he left her stranded - that wasn't cool). I was also equally horrified over the fact that he very well could have done that TO ME!! In a later conversation, he swore he wouldn't have, but in the words of my R & B brother Ginuine, what makes ME different?

As the night started to wind down, I began looking for Gretchen and her little friend.

No dice.

Means nothing. Who really sits down at the prom? You're so busy dancing and doing everything else, one of which figuring out what's crackin tomorrow, that it was no big deal.

Gretchen. . .Gretchen. . .(by the way, YES, that was her name) 

Well, I might as well had been looking for the holy grail because Gretchen and her friend bailed out and left me stranded at Lynwood (up to no good) High School's Junior/Senior Prom at the Los Angeles Marriott.



So, anyway, after I STOPPED feeling like that, I managed to make my way to the phone booth (pre-cell phone dayz, y'all), and called my mother, who had to come pick me up, in her sponge rollers, in her 1980's Narc Inspired Chevy Cavalier, and take me home.

Gretchen was equally clowned at school after the word was spread (wonder who did that). She claimed that she believed that she couldn't find me, one, and two, she thought I would get home with someone else. Well, one, it's not hard to find a woman, six one in heels, with a black dress on with a feathered hair style, and two, EXACTLY WHO WAS I SUPPOSED TO RIDE HOME WITH??

Yet, the prom was indeed a pleasant experience, and a good time had by all.

**AFTERWORD**

I didn't speak to Gretchen for the next ten years. It wasn't like a grudge, but after that incident we stopped speaking in high school, and then we graduated, and just lost contact. I saw her at a mixer later on, and we talked but not much else came from our relationship.

Remember dude who left the chick stranded at home while he took light skin-ded girl to the prom, and his other date came up there hoo-banging? Here are their own updates:

Light Skin and her REAL dude came into the clothing store that I worked in a few weeks, later. Me, being, me, kept staring at her trying to figure out where I saw her. I finally blurted out (in front of her man) that, by the way, did-ent she go to Lynwood (up to no good) prom? She looked at me, her eyes pleading for me to shut the phuck up.

Why she do that? It was on, now. Her man was looking at her like WTF? So, once again, me being the 17 year old I was, proceeded to describe her dress and all, to which her boyfriend, at that point, was furious. He led (read: pulled) her out of the store.

As for the guy who left the chick stranded AND Miss Stranded herself: They have been married for over ten years, with three kids.

So now, I turn it over to you, the readers: What WAS your prom experience like? Did you GO? Why or Why Not? Any interesting events occur before (or after?)