Halloween Cont.

     That night, another girlfriend of mine was caught with her on again off again boyfriend steaming up the backseat of a car. We lovingly called her Steamy Windows the rest of the year.

     Besides hanging out with the guys, I remember dancing arm in arm with my girlfriends chanting “Delta…Delta…Delta.” We thought that we were so funny and because the rest of the crowd was drinking, I can only assume that onlookers found us slightly amusing as well.

     Then there was a point in the night where many of my girlfriends decided to run outside of the barn and dart into the cornfield. Now, I don’t know about you, but a cornfield at night reminded me of that awful movie “The Children of the Corn.” I was terrified of that movie and of that cornfield—or any cornfield for that matter. “Hell no,” was my response.

     My girlfriends did not share my fear the cornfield and found it amusing to run through it screaming. Some of the guys decided to spice things up and chase them, which made them scream louder. Thoughts of that stupid movie started circulating inside my head.

     Suddenly, my girlfriend Jen ran up to me sobbing profusely. “Angie, Angie you have to help me, nobody will help me!”

     “What happened?” I questioned, scared to death that she was hurt.

     “I lost my keys and nobody will help me find them!” She yelled as she grabbed my arms and shook them.

     Up until that point in my life, I was inexperienced with the dealings of drunken people and unaware of the ways alcohol could affect them. So, confusion engulfed me as I watched Jen make losing keys seem like a life or death situation.

     “Okay,” I said. “Where did you have them last?”

     She pointed and sobbed, “Right over there…before I ran into the cornfield.”

     The cornfield? Are you freakin’ kidding me? Who the hell is going to find a set of car keys in a cornfield, at night?

     She was crying now harder than before saying, “You have to help me, you have to help me!”

     Man, I did not want to step foot in that cornfield, but Jen knew I was sucker for people in need. So, instead of running straight for the barn, I grabbed her arm with a roll of my eyes and reluctantly walked toward the damn cornfield.

     As we approached the edge of the corn, I held my breath and began walking into the dreaded field. She was too drunk to realize how terrified I was but my knees were knockin’ and beads of sweat were building on my forehead.

     I swear to you, we were not ten feet into that field before I stepped on her friggin’ keys. I have no idea how it happened, but it did. We found a set of keys, in a cornfield, at night; amazing. She could not stop hugging me and we bored countless people with the dramatic retelling of our unexpected fate.

     I’m not sure how time got away from us so quickly, but soon it was three a.m. and people were making their way home. As my girls and I collected ourselves, it was brought to my attention that one of our intoxicated friends was about to put himself and others at risk and drive home. But my soberness could not allow that to happen. So I took charge, and through much persistence, convinced a drunk-ass guy to hand over his keys.

     The night of the Delta Delta Delta girls had been a success. My friends and I had a great, safe time. And really, my breaking curfew stopped one intoxicated driver from contaminating the roads. That makes it all okay…right mom and dad?

Halloweeen 1992

Halloween 1992

Age: Eighteen

     “Delta, Delta, Delta can I help ya, help ya, help ya?” This Saturday Night Live sketch was the inspiration for one of my most memorable Halloween costumes.

     After a brief planning session, my girlfriends and I were satisfied with the basic idea that would become our sorority costumes. Then we agreed on a meeting place where the magic could come to life.

     Each participant wore a navy blue sweater and pig tails in her hair with matching ribbons. Then we glued three yellow triangles to our chests to complete the ensemble. It was a simple costume but very appropriate and humorous for the time. It also allowed us to add countless girls to our energetic group.

     I knew a lot of good people when I was in high school. I had my core group of girlfriends, my friends from the neighborhood and my friends from softball, volleyball and basketball. And go figure, every group of friends seemed to get along just fine. I’m not sure how many Delta Delta Delta girls we added to the group that day, but all who participated, were way too much fun.

     Our crazy night started out with a tiny, tiny white lie. I told my parents that I was staying overnight at Stacy’s house. The statement was actually true, I just left out the part about going to a huge Halloween bash and that I would most likely be home by three or four in the morning.

     The “lie” was a bold move for a goody-goody like me. I usually followed the rules and rarely defied my parents. I had quite a Sandra Dee reputation at school. But I was a senior now and really wanted to go to the party. I knew my parents wouldn’t approve so instead of hearing “no” from them, I just stretched the truth a little. I didn’t drink beer or liquor in high school so a little white lie was not the end of the world. I was still a goody-goody at heart.

     I remember calling my parents from a gas station on highway ten in Ramsey to let them know about the sleep over. Luckily, they did not hear the cars in the background and agreed to let me spend the night. I hung up the phone with sweaty palms and a racing heartbeat. Holy cow, I just lied to my parents. Well, sort of. I looked at my friends and their mouths were dropped open. Angie Haider just did something bad! We all giggled then were on our way to the bash.

     One of our friends was throwing the party at her grandparents’ farm. They had a huge barn in the backyard which they converted into a dance floor. People were dancing, drinking and having a great time. I chose to keep myself sober but had a blast anyway.

     As for men, I believe that most of my girlfriends were on the prowl. My best friends found themselves attached to interesting guys…to say the least. In my opinion, both guys drank way too much, more than a person should ever drink really. One of the guys was smart as hell though and an otherwise good guy. The other was a spoiled brat I did not care for at all but as long as my friends were satisfied with their choices, I kept my judgmental opinion to myself.

     I can’t remember exactly who I was interested in at that time. But I do know that it was one of two hockey players…or a tennis player ;-). I had a few different boyfriends my senior year but nothing too serious. I was not that kind of girl. Actually, before my senior year, I was the girl guys liked as a friend more than anything. And then something happened. I must have become more attractive over night because guys started to notice me.

     With my new-found attractiveness, I chose to date around instead of sticking with one guy. I had a lot of ground to make up. Now, this doesn’t mean that I wasn’t dumped here and there because I was and it hurt. But for the most part, during my senior year, I gained a lot of dating experience good and bad.

Morp 1993

Morp 1993

Age: Eighteen

           

            At the time, I received many compliments on the dress. Two years ago, I lent it to a girlfriend for a faux prom party and today, my three year old daughter wears it around the house.

I actually tailored it to her little body, stitches and all, because the safety pins could not withstand her constant motion. Then, I decided to pull out the video yearbook of my senior year. I was certain that my princess-obsessed girl would get a kick out of her mom as a snow queen wearing “the dress.” I was right. She could not believe that her mom was a real princess with a real crown. Somehow, that made her feel even more special wearing mom’s old dress.

The video was priceless and brought back countless memories. We all sported big bangs, thick eyebrows and that early 1990’s fashion. And even though our physiques were thin, the youthful baby fat was still evident.

As a teenager, I fell into the unfortunate trap of trying to fit in, wanting to be liked and life’s immature, emotional ups and downs. Shocking, I know. I still remember feeling sad that I was not nominated for the homecoming court at my school. Those girls were lucky enough to be involved in pep fests, football games, parades, you name it. I thought it would be so much fun but alas, I was not chosen.

            I was, however, chosen for the snow queen court or, as we called it at my school, “Morp” which was prom spelled backwards. It was okay to be nominated for Morp, but it was no homecoming. Well, that was my initial reaction anyway. But after a few moments of immature comparisons, I decided that being nominated for the event should be considered an honor and that I should rid myself of negative any thoughts. I needed to loosen up and have fun. And the best place to start, was Rosedale mall.

            My mom and sisters were so excited to help me shop and try on dresses that we giggled the whole way to the mall. Once inside, my mom pulled out her map of dress shops and pointed us in the right direction. She had been on a few Caribbean Cruises and knew the best places to buy formal gowns. She was also a former homecoming queen herself and shared with us her fashion knowledge, “it doesn’t matter what it looks like on the rack, try it on anyway…you may be surprised!”

            And she was right. There were some fairly ugly dresses that actually looked good on me once I tried them on. Although, I had one major problem: My eighteen year old body decided that breasts were an optional asset, leaving me with an A cup which made it nearly impossible to fill out any dress. I cursed those A cups until, by some miracle, “the dress” showed up.

            It was strapless and black velvet with a purple sash at the hip. It went down to my knees and fit me like a tight-ass glove. If I was going to wear a strapless gown, it would have to be tight so the damn thing wouldn’t fall off. I knew that airflow would be a problem, but it’s much better than some wardrobe malfunction. I realize that this reference did not exist back then but it is fitting, right?

            The dress was the first hurdle, then came jewelry, shoes and under garments. We pieced together my ensemble and once satisfied, we brought it home where it remained in seclusion until the coronation. Not even my date could see the dress. I enjoyed the element of surprise.

            Ahh..my date. He was the class president my senior year and a tall, good-looking, gay, black man. He did not come out of the closet until after high school, but I can’t say that anyone was too surprised.

            Our date proved to be a great time. We went out with four other couples, ate at the restaurant where my date worked and were given our own banquet room. It paid to have connections.

            Morp was a formal Sadie Hawkins event where a girl invites a guy to the dance, then pays for the dance tickets and finally pays for the dinner and drinks. My date was extremely excited about the occasion and took full advantage of the tradition. He insisted that I pick him up at his house for the date and that I open every door for him, including car doors.

I learned this lesson quickly as I climbed into my driver's seat, adjusted myself and then looked with much surprise at an empty passenger seat. I looked around for my date and finally I spotted him: He was standing outside of his closed car door staring at it with an "I don't think so" look on his face.

What was he doing? I thought. And then it dawned on me. My face went flush as I shook my head, rolled my eyes and smiled.

“Really?” I asked as I stepped out of the car and walked around to his side.

With a sassy smile on his face he replied, “You asked me out, didn’t you?” He smiled as I grabbed his hand and escorted him into the vehicle. For the rest of the evening, I made sure to tend to him in every way possible and he loved every minute of it.

            Prior to the Morp date and dance, the school held a pep fest. We attended class in the morning and the pep fest took place in the afternoon. I remember filling out the ballot for king and queen that morning. There were so many eyes peering over my shoulder when I voted so I made sure to vote for my girlfriend Amy rather than myself. Some people were already calling me names just for being nominated and I didn’t want conceded to be added to the list.

            When the time finally came, I headed to the auditorium and began to get dressed for the pep fest. As I pulled up my dress, I began to laugh. Earlier that morning my mom and I had a conversation where she offered to give me her fake boob inserts for my dress. She was also worried about a wardrobe malfunction and just wanted to take every precaution. I thanked her for her thought but chose to respectfully decline her offer. It would have been quite shocking for me to go from Miss Flat-chested that morning to Miss Cleavage that afternoon; although, my chest was not my largest problem. So to speak.

I so desperately wanted to wear my hair in a cool updo but teenage acne had attacked my body. It wasn’t awful, but it was there and I hated it. I had bumps on both my face and my back. Make-up helped on my face but my back was cursed. Ultimately, I was forced to wear my hair down covering my imperfections. I looked fine but felt a bit disappointed, I had hoped to look better than fine.

            Then there were my nerves. Throughout the homecoming festivities I had hoped to be a part of the royalty but now in my anxious state of hyperventilation, I was thankful that my name was left off the ballot.

At this point in my life, when given the option of fight or flight, my flight instinct persevered. And now, I wanted to leave. The thought of walking out in front of the entire student body made my knees weak. And my school was huge! We had three thousand students and who knows how many staff members. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through this predicament.

            As I nervously lined up to walk the plank, I turned to my friend whom I was escorting and said, “I can’t do this.”

            He gave me an unsympathetic look and said “Whatever Haider, you know you’re going to win.”

            My eyes flared open, I didn’t think I could feel any worse but there it was: I could win. Winning, being crowned queen, meant walking around the gymnasium two times in front of everyone in the entire school. I could not breathe.

            Then, my name was called. This jolted me from my hypnotic spell and we started to walk. I do not remember how I got my legs to work but somehow I was moving forward without collapsing. Speaking of moving, my lips were quivering as though I had spent the last hour in an ice box. What was wrong with me? Then I started to fidget. I needed something to get my mind off my nerves, so I started picking at the rose I was holding. Seconds later the head of the flower flew through the air and hit the ground. Oh my gosh! I did not know why I was acting so crazy.

I decided to search for control and in order to “get a grip” I chose to focus on my destination, the stage. In a few feet I would be safe on the stage and the student body could gawk at the next couple.

            Ahh…we made it. I really wanted to sit down and relax but no such luck. In order to stick with tradition, the girls stood behind their escorts as the guys sat comfortably in a chair. Ten minutes into the pep fest, I would regret my choice to wear such cute high heals. I eventually pulled them off my feet, desperate to regain circulation.

            Feet pain aside, the pep fest was pretty fun. The focus was off me, thank God, and onto theater buffs who performed skits, played musical numbers and participated in a pie eating contest.

            I managed to lighten up for the festivities but then the time came to crown the new king and queen. Winning made me more nervous than not being crowned queen. If I were crowned queen, I would have to walk in front of everyone again and I felt no reason to leave my little comfort zone on the stage.

            The king was crowned first and everyone screamed. Justin was such a likeable guy so the screams seemed entirely appropriate. Then it was time for the queen. The girl crowning the royalty made sure that she dangled the crown over all of our heads just to tease each of us and the crowd. And then I felt it, I felt the crown as it was placed on my head. The video yearbook actually caught my initial reaction which included a smirk and an eye roll as I mouthed the words, “oh, no.” I wasn’t ungrateful for being crowned, I was nervous. Although, my nerves calmed a bit when I heard the crowd cheer in agreement. Then I flashed a huge smile.

            The king and I walked to the middle of the stage and received our robes. Seconds later, we were arm in arm as we walked a final lap around the gymnasium. At that time, I could see my friends and family and their smiling faces, and I began to relax. Finally, I was able to just enjoy myself.

            When the pep fest ended, my friends and family bombarded me with hugs and kisses. We took countless pictures that I still cherish today. The video yearbook even asked me for a statement and I recited the first thing that came to mind: how happy I was to be out of my shoes. Real smooth Haider, real smooth.

            Then I heard my name in the distance. I look around and there was Dig. He was in the band and didn’t have time to stop as they shuffled out of the gym. I waved at him and he gave me a thumbs-up. That Dig, he was so cool.

            Although, the experience caused me a ton of anxiety, watching that video with my daughter made me smile. Sure, the pep fest got the best of me, but the rest of my day was filled with family, friends and fun. It ended up being a great day.

Sorry Peeps! Crazy Busy!

Horseback Riding Cont.

Soon, the rest of the riders found their way to the stable, chose their horses and we were off on our new adventure.

The trail had been used all summer so it was free of any major obstacles, allowing for a smooth ride. And it was beautiful. It followed a creek that over time had created amazing rocky bluffs. The forest was in full bloom with wild flowers, conifers and large oak trees. Ahh, nature could be so breathtaking.

            As we moved slowly through the forest, I continued to take in my surroundings. I actually spent so much time focusing on my surroundings that I forgot to look directly in front of me. And before I could make any sense of it, my horse started walking straight into the creek while the majority of the horses stayed on dry land.

Dig and Dave’s horses started the water walk. I cannot remember whose horse went first, I just know that eventually each of their horses was up to it’s belly in water, happily eating the much desired foliage on the opposite side of the creek. And as their horses were eating, Dig and Dave had to pull their feet out of the stirrups and pull off some kind of circus act to keep them dry.

            My horse decided that the creek walk was also a good idea, so we followed the troublemakers—although my horse took a slightly different route under a fallen tree. The incident would have been less dramatic had I been able to fit under that fallen tree, but instead there was just enough room for the horse and absolutely zero room for me.

           As the horse moved forward, I began to feel the physical pain of being pinched between the horse and the tree. I screamed as though someone were physically assaulting me and at the same time grabbed onto the tree and threw myself off of the horse. There I was hanging on the limb of a tree over the creek. My heart was racing like crazy and I thought I was going to die. Then the worst-case scenarios popped into my head. I thought I was either going to hang there forever or let go and drown. I could not help it, that’s just how my adolescent brain worked.

            Meanwhile, as I was hanging there waiting for someone to save me, my cries for help stirred up another dramatic scene—this one was among the horse line. The guy leading us brought most of the line up a small embankment before hearing my cries. Through the sheer terror of losing a kid on his route, he grabbed his horse’s reins and without a second thought jumped off a ten foot cliff to come to my rescue.

            I wish I could have seen it. I bet it was like an old western movie. The hero risks himself to save a maiden in distress. Okay, maybe I’ve watched one too many romantic comedies but it probably looked really cool.

            Although looks can be deceiving because Leah, Ann and Kyle did not think it was cool, not even for a second. The reason for this apprehension, their horses decided to do what they were taught and follow the leader. Now even thought we all thought we were great riders, we really possessed the very basic skills of horse riding. They said it took every ounce of strength they had to keep their horses from launching themselves off that cliff.

Meanwhile, I felt as though I was dangling over a gushing river. As if the water would swallow me up should I let go of that tree. I held on for dear life and waited…forever! Finally our guide came crashing through the water, dove off his horse and rescued me.

            My whole body was shaking. I was so scared yet relieved to finally place my feet on the ground. I thanked him continually for the next minute straight as I collected myself. Then with a brave heart and my head held high, I turned around and looked directly at the river that nearly took my life.

Hmmm….that’s it, huh? Apparently, I had only been hanging two feet in the air and the water beneath me was maybe three inches deep. Uhhh…oops! Maybe I over reacted just a bit. In my defense, I had closed my eyes the moment I grabbed the tree, so the only image of my surroundings was my irrational imagination. And once reality set in and I realized my mistake, embarrassment overtook me. I bet every observer of that dramatic scene was wondering why I didn’t just shut up and let go.

            Although this incident scarred me slightly, the story is still credited as a “Happy Tale.” The event actually became larger than life as it was told and retold throughout that week and the years thereafter. We each had our own personal perspective of the outing, which forced the story to change from Angie Gets Rescued to The Event of the Neighborhood. And what an event it became.