![]() ![]() Some prescient genius brought along a boom box for the ride, and either the same or a different genius brought along a CD single of “Tha Crossroads.” If it had been a CD single by No Doubt or Smashing Pumpkins or, yikes, Bush, this story would cease to exist. Now we could focus on the important stuff, like trying to remember where the cameras were on the big roller coaster so we could give it the finger on our way by. After three years of growing less stupid and more ridiculous, we were finally wrapping things up at Mill Valley Middle School. We weren’t just going to ride rides we were going to ride rides on a school day because we’d fucking made it. There was an energy on the bus that felt like we were taking a triumphant collective bow in front of an audience of ourselves. We were alone together, hurtling towards the best theme park around. It was a confusing time, as all times are, but for a day at least our plans were not nebulous. ![]() This is a story about symbolic theme park names, friendship, frenching, self-seriousness, style, superiority, success, weed, finding the right companion, Jewish goodbyes, Uncle Charles, mortality, and masterpieces.īut first, this is a story about a bus full of 8th grade kids headed for Great America in 1996. T his is a story about the most life-affirming 90s rap singalong about death. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |