Humiliated On a Ten Speed

I realized that I made an erroneous statement in my post on the all-star game. While I have caught almost every mid summer classic, there is one that I missed. It was the 1986 game. The reason I remembered this is that it coincides with me getting slapped by a girl.

In the summer of 86 I was still on my ten-speed. I had not yet earned a license even though in June I turned 17. The reasons for this were many, mainly due to the fact that I had broken my arm right when I was starting my time in the car on my way to my blue slip. So, because I could not finish it I had to start the whole program from the start.

During my junior year of high school I had an Accounting class with this girl Cheryl. I sat right next to her and always made her laugh and we were always joking around. The teacher, Mr. Poreca was really a good guy and while he always chided me about my class clown behavior, it seemed on some level he enjoyed my antics. Being sixteen and clueless I never really got it that maybe this Cheryl girl was laughing at my lame attempt at humor for a reason.

So, as the year wore on I continued my act and then at the end of the year our yearbooks came out and she asked me to sign hers. I did and then she signed mine and told me to call her and left me her number. Finally it sunk in that maybe I should make a move with her. So, I called her and started dating her as best as a seventeen year old without a license could. Because I was of that age, I was totally embarrassed of my Mom (what teenager isn’t) and did not want her driving me over to her house so, I would usually peddle my bike over to her pad on Oconto in Bridgeview.

We would hang out at Haunted Trails, go to Burger King, and make out in her friend, Charlotte’s basement. So, I guess she was my girlfriend even though there was never anything official. Almost daily in the summer of 86 I rode my bike to her house and we hung out. She lived by my friend Mike Doyle and at the time I was hanging out with Doyle, Zar and eventually Chris Dusza.

Dusza, had access to his Mom’s Blue 85 Ford Escort Wagon. This opened up a whole new world to us and we would go to forbidden places like Orland. So, here I was having the time of my life with a girl on my arm and a song in my step. I was working at White Hen making forty bucks a week, which was a king’s ransom back then. Everything was going good until that July night of the All-Star game.

I had as per usual wanted to watch the game. So, Cheryl had asked if I wanted to come over that night and I told her I couldn’t because I wanted to be home to catch the game. She was cool with my baseball geekiness and I headed home intent on doing exactly that. The game was as it always is on a Tuesday night. This is significant for a reason.

There was a bar on 103^rd and Cicero called Field’s. On Tuesday’s it was teen night, meaning it would not serve liquor and would open the doors to the teenagers in the area. It was a dance club that I really wasn’t into but if you wanted to meet girls in Oak Lawn in 1986 this was a great source. So, from time to time Zar, Doyle, Dusza and myself would head up there. (Yes, I realize it is embarrassing that I hung out in a juice bar. I also played D&D and belonged to the Wilkins Magic Club in 7^th grade.)

I get home fully focused on the game when Zar calls me and tells me that they are all going to Fields and they were coming to pick me up. I told him don’t bother as I was going to stay home and catch the ballgame. He than gave me shit, and ridiculed me until I agreed to go with them.

So, Dusza picks me up in the chick magnet Escort and we were on our way. We get there and it is the usual fare of teen girls on one side of the dance floor and insecure males on the other. I grab a coke and watch as Zar busts a move to Dancing With Myself, by Billy Idol. Then from the corner of my eye I see this girl I go to High School with named Dawn. She heads over and we start to talk. Dawn was this really cool girl who while being quite attractive had none of those hang-ups. She wasn’t pretentious and was quite mature for her age. She got it, and knew most guys were only interested in getting in her pants. I long ago had gotten into the dreaded friend zone with her so, she considered me “safe.” Even though I secretly always had a crush on her as any hetro red blooded teen who ever laid eyes on her would have.

So, as we were talking, eventually we ended up on the dance floor, gyrating around to Venus, (The Bannan-rama version.) We might have danced a couple of songs but it was a long time ago and I don’t remember all the details. What I do remember is that it was strictly platonic, as I knew she was way out of my league and she was just happy to recognize a familiar face so she could dance with someone without having a bunch of horny teens drool all over her. So, the night ended, I got dropped off at home and didn’t think about it for another second.

The next day, I wake up call Cheryl and she tells me to come over like I had almost every day that summer. I get there and she asks me how the game was. At this point, not knowing what she knew I was forced to lie. Why I didn’t tell her I went to Fields, was simply because, I knew that since she was always bugging me to go there with her and here I go and I didn’t take her, she’d be pissed. That is why I lied. The Dawn thing never entered my mind.

So, I answer her telling her the game was great, the NL won and blah, blah, blah. She than asks if I went anywhere or anything and I flat out told her, “I just stayed in last night.” Before I could even get the sentence out of my mouth, her right hand shot up and slapped me right across the face. She than started screaming at me calling me a liar and a cheater. It seems that same Charlotte whose basement had become our love nest, was at Fields and saw me dancing with Dawn. She ratted me out and now I was in trouble. Cheryl yelled at me and even though I tried to explain basically she told me to never call her again.

I rode home with my tail between my legs and my face, beat red having my first experience with the whole hell knows no furry like a woman scorned thing. I tried making up with her and she would have none of it and eventually later that summer I would meet Nancy. Later on in life, I would wind up working with Cheryl’s Mom for seven years at Kmart and even had Cheryl in some classes at Moraine Valley. By then it was all water under the bridge, but I never forgot that July afternoon where I got slapped for the first but sadly not the last time by a member of the opposite sex.