With the arrival of October, the senior boys of KSS know the most embarrassing night of the year is in sight. We don’t know when, we don’t know who but Grad Kidnapping is coming.
Perhaps some of the grads enjoy being torn from the comfort of their own beds, forced to dress as the opposite sex, and being used and abused the entire night. To me, it doesn’t sound like my kind of night.
Instead, I could return from school, flick on the hockey game, kick back and relax in anticipation of another school day after a soothing and healthy eight-hour slumber in my own bed. Having certain beverages forced down my throat, sleeping in the back of a Ford Escape, waking up on a lumpy air mattress thrown down in the back in a blurred haze the night before, and attending classes not showered with a piercing headache is less than appealing.
Why doesn’t the entire grad class meet in a nice park beside the water after school sometime this month? We could pack a lovely picnic lunch, consisting of baguettes and sparking apple juice. We can find a nice spot for a few people to play square; we’ll all bring our ball gloves and play a long game of catch. We could even bring a barbeque! Fry up some burgers, maybe even a hot dog or two. If someone wanted to get crazy, they could throw on their swim trunks and go for a frigid, October dip in the lake. As the sun goes down, we would too. We could pitch tents, or even just sleep under the stars on a beautiful autumn night. The best part of all this is the fact we can all get a good nights sleep, return home to shower, brush our teeth, and make a healthy, hearty lunch for the day. The entire grad class would be grinning in memory of the peaceful, wholehearted, safe night they just had.
Unfortunately, I probably won’t be able to successfully pitch this idea to my peers. So, I wish the rest of my male counterparts a safe, somewhat bearable night. I pray you’ll be decent when your parents willingly let the kidnappers in, I hope your costume doesn’t emotionally ruin you for the remainder of the year. I hold my Gatorade bottle up to you for the day after and say, “Cheers, to a night of embarrassment, regrets, and emotional distress.”