BANG OUT

We were BFF until the milk duds incident. I though BFF meant “forever” and not “until you embarrass me with melted milk duds on your butt.” I thought BFF meant “best friends” as in you tell me if I have milk duds on my butt and don’t run away embarrassed.

The fateful day, February 19, 1984, started out like any other Sunday morning: I called you as soon as I woke up, and you told me what we were going to do that day. You said we were going to see the new movie Footloose. It had just come out and already everyone was talking about it…how cute Kevin Bacon looked and how the soundtrack was rockin. February 19^th was an unseasonably warm day for San Francisco – how else to explain my choice to wear bright-white Bermuda shorts? Among the many things I wished I could change about that day, wearing those shorts was numero uno. Not only because of the “incident;” the movie theater was so cold!

The movie was everything it was cracked up to be. I loved it. My favorite scene was when the tractors sped towards each other and everyone thought Kevin Bacon was so cool because he refused to “chicken,” not knowing it was because his shoelace was stuck. Wait. Scratch that. My absolute favorite scene was the end when they were dancing it up at the prom. I was shuffling my keds and swishing my hips side-to-side in the plush theater chair along with the kids at the prom on the screen. Man I wanted to dance.

At last the credits rolled and I was up and outa there. You were right behind me. Footloose! Footloose! I hopped out of the cinema lobby and onto Polk Street. Footloose! Everybody cut…everybody cut, I sang. I bent my knees and leaned forward as I rolled my arms…left side roll, right side roll…and then shot them up in the air for Everybody cut footloose!. For the musical break – drrrdnnddrrrdnndrrr – I pretended to do the two-step. It was almost like a tap-dancing shuffle.

Where were you? I honestly thought you weren’t dancing next to me because you were like Kevin Bacon’s blond friend in the movie who couldn’t dance.  I got to the corner of California Street and looked back. You were quite far away actually. Almost all the way back at the movie theater. I had to go back and get you! Maybe you just needed some encouragement. I put my arm around your shoulder and swayed to help you find the beat. Footloose! I thought you were embarrassed for yourself that you couldn’t dance.

I didn’t find out until later…and from Katie no less…that you were embarrassed because of me. And the milk duds. And maybe the dancing. And that’s why you ran off. The hard orange surface of the bus seat must have wiped off the rest of the milk duds because I never saw them. And my mom didn’t say anything either when I got home and she would have. But by then, having ridden home alone without my BFF, my footloose and fancy-free flame had already been extinguished. If it means anything to you, I did wonder where they all went.  I’m not a complete moron.




Copyright © Lecia Smith, 2010