The next thing I heard was music. It took me a moment to realize it was coming from a clock radio. I lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the Beatles "Get Back," and wondering first what kind of weird ass dream I'd been having and, second, where the hell I was.
I lo
I dressed the way I always did every day for my entire school life: by throwing on a rock band t-shirt and a pair of jeans.
The shirt took a while, but eventually I settled on the Procol Harum. It was a toss-up between that and the Kinks. I figured I'd wear that one tomorrow.
The folks were already gone when I got downstairs, but I was glad to find the coffee was still hot. It was always that way at my house. We looked out for ourselves, and as long as we didn't screw up too badly, my brother and I had it made.
Our parents worked long hours, so we were on our own. My brother Al is gone now too. He was in high school and had to be there earlier than I did.
I locked the door and headed for school in the best mood I had been in a very long time. I didn't even know what day it was, and I really didn't care.
I was so lost in the possibilities ahead of me that I at first didn't hear my name being called. It didn't register until the person yelling it smacked me on the head.
Before I could retaliate, I caught myself. A blast from the past was standing beside me, laughing his ass off.
"Hey Mark, thanks for waking me up," I said. Mark was my best friend for years, and I was really glad I hadn't decked him.
We messed around like that all the time. "Man", he said, "you were lost in space or something; I've been screaming for two blocks!"
"Sorry, dude", I responded. "Guess I was kind of out of it there for a minute".
"Thinking about tryouts next week?" He asked, "I know I am. I hear there are some guys trying out who are really good. I hope we can make enough of an impression to actually play".
So that's what week it is, I thought. The changer must have scoped me out pretty well because this was one of the first of many mistakes I had made.
I tried out for Little League when I was eleven. I made the team by impressing the hell out of the coach in the first five minutes of the tryouts.
He was hitting grounders to potential infielders when he accidentally hit a line drive that headed straight between my eyes.
I was leaning over with my glove close to the ground to scoop one up, and I did the only thing I could. Since there was no time to get my glove up, I caught it barehanded.
It hurt like hell, but I smiled and tossed it back. After that, I never showed up again. It wasn't because my hand was swollen for two days either. Mark was the reason.
I always had very few friends, and most of the ones I did have were girls.
Mark wasn't what you would call a "gifted" athlete. Actually, most people would say he was a complete klutz.
He had no coordination at all and was dropped the first day. I felt bad enough for him that I decided I wouldn't play either and gave up something I really liked to do along with a chance to be part of a team.
I found out later in life that working with people begins very young. If you don't learn to work as part of a group towards a common goal, you end up working alone.
I've been there, done that, got the t-shirt, and I ain't going back. That had to change this time.
After all that went through my mind, I replied, "Yep, I don't know how it will go. I hear the competition is pretty tough.
We'll just have to give it a shot and see how it goes". We got to the school and split up then. We somehow ended up in different classes, even though there were only two fifth grade rooms.
I walked into the portable classroom I remembered so well (total recall is amazing) and sat in my seat in great anticipation.
I didn't have long to wait. Baseball wasn't the only reason I was happy Loki chose this day.
I hadn't been in my seat for long before I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard a whispered "Hey, Matt". It was January. She could have been my first actual girlfriend. Instead, peer pressure made me do something stupid.
Jan was what a lot of people would call "plain," but I thought she was cute. She was as thin as I was and only slightly shorter, with long black hair.
Her face was average for conventional tastes, but I have never been a conventional person.
I decided to play it the same as I did the first time around, minus the screw-up. I turned around and said, "Hey yourself, how's it going, cutie?" (Yes, I really was like that then.)
I got the blush I had been looking for, and she said, "Do you really think that, or are you teasing me like everybody else?"
"I think you're very pretty." I replied "Anybody who thinks differently must be blind or stupid".
I thought the conversation was going well until I heard the familiar "Matt and Jan!" from our teacher, Mrs. McAllister.
"We are trying to have a class here. You two obviously aren't interested. Both of you front and center!"
This was expected of me, and I tried hard not to smile. "I think you both need a lesson on paying attention," she said. "Perhaps two swats apiece with the yardstick will do the job."
I was the recognized "class clown" and always in trouble, so I wasn't impressed. I'd been there before, but Jan hadn't.
"Mrs. McAllister," I said, giving her my best puppy-dog look. "It was my fault. I couldn't help it. When a girl as cute as Jan wants to talk to a runt like me, he just can't pass up the chance.
If you don't mind, I'd like to take hers too. It's not right to punish her just because she's so irresistible".
The look on every face in the room was priceless, but Jan and Mrs. McAllister were by far the best. Jan was the most adorable shade of red, and poor old Teacher had to pick her chin off the floor before she could talk.
Finally, in an amazingly composed voice, she said with a smile and a suppressed laugh, "Alright, Mr. Sussmann, if you insist. Grab your ankles and let's get started."
I bent over, looked at Jan, and smiled. I had made the same speech 37 years ago. Everything else worked out the same way too.
I heard the whistle of the incoming ruler and felt a little sting before watching half of it fly across the room as it broke almost in half.
I stood up as I had the first time and said, "Gee, Mrs. McAllister, you should get better yardsticks. That one must have been made in Japan or something."
Everyone who hadn't been laughing started then. Poor Mrs. McAllister couldn't help but laugh along. When she could stop, she pointed the stub at me and told me to sit down before she borrowed a baseball bat and tried again.
When class let out that day, Jan asked if she could walk with me. I was happy to accept and offered to carry her books for her.
Mark and a couple of other guys he hung out with saw us and seemed a little peeved. Like most 11-year-old boys, they weren't interested in the opposite sex and didn't join us.
Jan started by thanking me for taking the blame for her and for saying what I did.
I used the opening to take her hand in mine and say it was no problem. I also told her I meant what I said. She lived a block further from school than I did, and all too soon we were at my house.
There were a bunch of kids across the street, and we heard the old faithful "Matt and Jan sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g" almost loud enough to interrupt our conversation.
The point of change (as I have come to call my different decisions this time around) was when they started with the "Maaatt's got a girlfriend" chant.
The first time around, we quickly said goodbye, and that was it. I avoided Jan after that. I know it hurt her feelings, but I couldn't deal with the teasing and peer pressure then. This time I knew I could, and it would be different.
After about three rounds with my name, they switched to the equally original "Jaaan's got a boyyyyfriend!"
I looked at her and said, "Do you want one?"
I got another one of those lovely blushes, and she said, "If you're serious, but if you're teasing me, I'll never talk to you again."
I told her I was serious enough to give them something to talk about tomorrow and asked if she would mind if I put the books down. After her confused "no, why?" I did so.
Then I asked, "Now, do you mind if I put my arms around you and give you a kiss that will curl your toes?"
She looked at me in disbelief and shook her head. I have always been a great kisser, and I'm not bragging.
Every girl I have had the pleasure of kissing has told me so. I pulled her close and put all my thirty-five years of experience into it.
It was a bit awkward at first. I don't think she'd ever done this before, but she soon got the hang of it.
I caressed her back from the top of her cute little butt to the bottom of her graceful neck. Then I ran my hands through her hair and finished by holding my hands on both sides of her face. I did keep my tongue to myself.
I didn't think she'd be ready for that yet. I just hoped she hadn't felt the surprisingly large bulge in my pants.