Sometime back I read in the newspaper that a 17-year-old male student in Union Springs, New York, was arrested after streaking through his high school wearing only a gorilla mask -- with the high school principal, a female, in hot pursuit. A hallway surveillance camera and interviews with other students helped to identify the miscreant.
“We’re here to teach children, and we do have high standards,” was the explanation given by the District Superintendent, after the young man’s charges and possible punishment – for exposure, a violation punishable by up to 15 days in jail and a $250 fine, five days' suspension by the school and possibly more severe punishment if the case goes to a further school hearing – were announced. The student said he had been dared by friends to streak through the school, according to police.
I laughed myself silly after reading this, although probably if it had been my son streaking I wouldn’t have found it quite so funny. It reminded me of the only streaker I ever saw, which was during the seventies when it really was quite a fad. I was single at the time, in between marriages, and my date and I had gone dancing in a cute little nightclub somewhere along Foothill Boulevard in Etiwanda, I think it was. Anyway, the band had just gone on a break when all of a sudden a male streaker ran across the dance floor and out the front door, naked as a jaybird. My date, who I think had some issues of his own, was thoroughly discombobulated. He scurred over to the juke box and put money in it, shaking it because a pack of cigarettes didn't come out.
“We’re here to teach children, and we do have high standards,” was the explanation given by the District Superintendent, after the young man’s charges and possible punishment – for exposure, a violation punishable by up to 15 days in jail and a $250 fine, five days' suspension by the school and possibly more severe punishment if the case goes to a further school hearing – were announced. The student said he had been dared by friends to streak through the school, according to police.
I laughed myself silly after reading this, although probably if it had been my son streaking I wouldn’t have found it quite so funny. It reminded me of the only streaker I ever saw, which was during the seventies when it really was quite a fad. I was single at the time, in between marriages, and my date and I had gone dancing in a cute little nightclub somewhere along Foothill Boulevard in Etiwanda, I think it was. Anyway, the band had just gone on a break when all of a sudden a male streaker ran across the dance floor and out the front door, naked as a jaybird. My date, who I think had some issues of his own, was thoroughly discombobulated. He scurred over to the juke box and put money in it, shaking it because a pack of cigarettes didn't come out.
Me? All I could do was laugh because the fellow had left his shoes and socks on!
No comments:
Post a Comment