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On Top Of A High School…

July 5, 2008

…And there we were, butt naked, standing on the school roof, and…

Got your attention, dear Internet?  Thought so.

I went out on Friday 13th this month, to what was innocuously billed as a mere glo-bowling party.  Begona was turning 19, and wanted to have a fairly low-key event, at least by comparison with previous events I’ve attended with her. 

We went to ridge, and due to some confusion from the large objectionable man staffing the desk (read: creative pricing to get rid of the small horde of loud and enthusiastic troublemakers) we only ended up staying for one round of bowling.  We bowled while getting gleefully, stealthily inebriated in a cluster of twenty or so crammed into a bowling bench intended for 6 or so.  The group’s size fluctuated wildly all night, as new people arrived and others seemed to vanish.  I sat around and stood around, posturing and gossiping and playing my part as an inveterate hedonistic troublemaker, as per expectations.

Our time pitching small hard balls along a polished floor at unstable pegs eventually came to an end, and the unpleasant little man running the joint migrated over to hover and harrumpf and generally attempt to appear scornful of the noisy horde in his space.  The effort seemed to mainly consist of wrinkling his nose and wiggling his eyebrows while rapidly curling and uncurling his upper lip, as though he’d recently swallowed something distasteful and was attempting to remove it from his upper gum line.  Sadly, not nearly as effective as he’d hoped.  Regardless, our time was at an end there, so we sauntered outside to collect the entire group outside the alley and proceed to re-enact junior high by getting drunk on cheap booze standing outside the bowling alley.  What it lacked in novelty and thrill it regained in irony and nostalgia.

The night proceeded, as nights with that crowd tend to, with people getting intoxicated, smoking, and exposing themselves.  As the cavorting continued, myself surrounded by a swarm of near-strangers, Begona’s boyfriend took off, and then in due course, she departed as well; more’s the pity.

Once the alley itself closed and we were again subjected to the near-comical glare of the gent running it, we opted to depart lest he phone the constabulary regarding the horde of inebriated, occasionally exposed youths lurking in front of his business.

Our group had shrunk somewhat, so we piled the remaining 9 or 10 people in & on the only car we had manned by someone sober, and proceeded very slowly over to Byng in the vague hope that we could gain entry to their pool.  We had 6 odd people in the cab of the car, with 3 on the trunk and one on the roof – we all huddled lower in the car as we crossed both McDonald and Alma, as though ducking down would make the people clinging to the back of the car somehow less evident.  Our stealthy approach seemed to work, the pile of giggling kids clinging to the car were somehow unnoticed for our trip.

Reaching Byng, we all piled out and started to attempt to gain access to the pool.  Nothing worked on the ground, so someone suggested getting onto the roof to see if the skylights were vulnerable.  No such luck, sadly, and the roof was too high for most of our party to clamber on top of.  The idea of a rooftop adventure did manage to capture our imagination, and we went ambling about the school, looking for an alternate method of ascent.  Finding one, we began exploring as much of the roof as possible, finding our way to ever possible corner we could reach, before eventually settling on a roof near the front of the building.

We cavorted and talked and generally did stupid things, until four of the gents lined up, dropped their pants, and stood near the edge, poised to drop their drawers at a moments notice.  “Oh, man,” the conversation went around the remaining 6 or so of us, “they’re going to get naked again…” and so we stood, in near horrified fascination, waiting for the proverbial coin to drop.  And waited, and waited.  Nothing.  The pose remained.  One of our group eventually wished they’d either hurry up or give up – “just get on with it already!” at which point I and another gent exchanged a look, nodded, and dashed past the line up, dropping our pants as we went.  Following our good example, the four joined suit, and in the span of one long, hazy moment, there were suddenly 9.5 nude people on the roof of the high school.  (One nice young gal declined to remove her coat, citing the cold.  Losing her pants didn’t seem to bother her so much.)

Suddenly, our cavorting took on a whole different note, as we both shivered and and laughed, wandering the roof, eventually striking it rich with a series of hapless pedestrians who were no doubt shocked to be accosted by a number of nude youth on a roof while walking home late at night.  We got all number of amusing reactions, from outright puritanical horror to an awe-struck sort of fascination.  We danced, we sang, we shouted things and made a general nuisance of ourselves until, we heard sirens in the distance.  Panictime! We all kinda threw on a few items and darted to a less-visible rooftop to get fully clothed while making sure we were in fact wearing our own clothes.  All the while, debating whether we wanted to be clothed or nude if the cops arrived, before eventually settling on the necessity of being clothed for any running involved and definitely getting nude fast if capture was imminent.

However, our escape was effected without incident, and the lot of us dispersed back into the woodwork of the city, mutually agreeing that our next destination for such shenanigans really absolutely had to be a church.

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