Thats actually a pretty awesome story.
Ninth or tenth grade. Was still in band at the time. Band at my high school was actually pretty awesome. Everybody was in it. But again, I digress.
Early Times. Large bottle. A friend and I split it, straight. I was fine for a while. And then I was not. I told a chaperone to eat shit and die.
During the pregame show I was goose-stepping instead of marching. And I executed spins on every yard line. At one point I apparently dropped to one knee and began my solo. Except I had no solo. I continued to goose step off the field and was informed that I performed some "Nazi-like" movements with my hands.
While the first half was going on I was summoned by the band director. Our bleacher seats were at the far end of the stadium and there was a large grassy hill beside them. I tried to see the band director at the top of the hill but I remember that all I was able to see were pinpricks of light where the stadium lights were supposed to be. The rest was a black hole.
Most of this has been told to me as I have very little memory of it.
I decided the steps were too difficult to traverse, so I elected to try the grassy hill. Mistake. Legend has it that I fell and rolled to the bottom three times. I say only once, but what difference does it make at this point.
I do remember the band director guy snarling at me and telling me I better make it through the halftime show. I have no idea how (or if) I got to my seat. I don't remember the rest of the game, the halftime show, leaving the game or anything until we were back to the bandroom and my dad pulled up to get me.
My dad does not curse. When he saw me (and probably smelled me) all he said was What the FUCK is wrong with you? My reply is lost to the ages.
The next morning my mom woke me at 6 a.m. for eggs, grits, bacon, toast and chocolate milk. My mom never cooked. My dad glared at me, daring me not to eat it all. I choked it down and held it. Then he surprised me by announcing that I was going to Auburn for the game. Long car ride. Hot as hell. But I survived it. Didn't puke. Felt like mortally wounded hell, but I made it. Don't ask me who Auburn played, I have no idea.
On Monday I was called to the band director's office. We had a strict no alcohol policy. My band director, who never cursed, asked me What in the HELL was wrong with you?
I had thought about it all weekend. Went with the "I thought I was coming down with a cold and I took some prescription stuff I found in my mom's purse. I don't think it was for a cold. I shouldn't have stolen it from her purse. It messed my mind up."
You weren't drunk? Because if you were drunk I have to kick you out of band and you'll be suspended for a week. You could get expelled. I just need you to tell me, were you drunk?
No sir. I took some pills I found in my mom's purse.
Don't let it happen again. The principal is waiting for you in the main office.
Get to the principal's office. I have only a fuzzy memory of telling the chaperone to eat shit and die. But she remembered and ratted me out.
I got a week in the hot box for that. We had a trailer out back in the middle of a field. Divided into two rooms. Nothing in each of the rooms but a single light bulb and a chair. No windows. They locked us in there at first bell and there we stayed until 3:30. Brought us our lunch. Like prison.
This whore special ed teacher got the assignment to bring me my lunch one day and she used that opportunity to scold me at length. Said I was a waste of potential and at my current rate, would never graduate.
On graduation night I bought a cake at the grocery store, had them put "You'll never graduate" on it and gave it to her. Told her she could eat it. I was eye-squinting drunk when I did so. There is an urban legend that I goose-stepped across the stage to get my diploma, but I choose not to believe it.
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