Krashed

It was the fall of 1966. Of course, I had tasted alcohol briefly with a sip here and sip there, but this was different. This was the beginning of a lifelong battle with alcoholism. I had decided that I would attend the sock hop after the football game. For more than three years I had dreamed of having a relationship with this one very special girl. I was a senior and she was a sophomore. I came into the dance and placed my shoes in a corner of the gymnasium. Some of my friends were lined up along the wall. All the girls were seated in the bleachers on the other side of the gym. I came into the dance virtually unnoticed as I was not a really popular kid in high school. As usual at these festive occasions the music was playing but no one was dancing. This seemed to be common practice at these events. Oh, there was some mingling going on between football players and cheerleaders, however, the vast majority of us who wandered blindly through high school, incapable when it came to communica