Prom 2008 - "Now With Breathalizer!"

Yep...it's that time of year again. For our third consecutive year, Erin and I chaperoned the prom. Actually this is the second consecutive year that Erin has been one of the organizers of prom, so with each year, she gains more responsibility and the speech about how I'd better not do or say anything stupid gets a little bit longer.

This year's prom theme was "Viva Las Vegas." What could better suit a student at an elite college preparatory school than a thorough instruction in the art of roulette or Texas Hold-Em. I kid, but prom this year was a rousing success. This year's prom had several key differences from previous years, and I think in all cases these changes were beneficial.

The first major difference was that instead of a formal sit down meal, there were food "stations" placed around the room. These included a veggie/dip table (read: the table nobody went to), a fajita table (read: the table covered with little chunks of discarded meat), a turkey carving station (read: a man with a big knife and short temper for snotty high schoolers), a pasta bar (read: a table for people trying to carb load for the rest of the night's activities), and finally, my personal favorite, a dessert table (read: where you'll find me for most of the evening).

I was assigned check-in duty for prom, which stationed me directly across from the dessert bar. As the food stations opened up, I noticed that the long lines were at the main courses, but the dessert bar was looking lonely. I also had a creeping fear that the desserts which looked good to me might disappear at the hands of these greedy little monsters who had actually paid their way into prom, so I decided to make my move. While everyone else was eating dinner, I snuck (rather unsuccessfully) over to the dessert table and loaded up a platter of desserts.

This plan worked flawlessly and proved to be endlessly entertaining to the other parents and teachers assigned to check-in duty. Erin was off doing other things, so I ran little risk of getting smacked around for what was later deemed embarrasing behavior. I also noted that since it worked so well, I should make it a ritual every 15 minutes or so. I tried different desserts with each visit, and it actually became quite a challenge once I discovered that if I emptied one plate on the dessert table, they brought out new, DIFFERENT desserts to replenish it with.

After my checkin duties were done, Erin and I made our way to all of the other food stations. It was difficult to scoop up the pasta or fajita meat, in part because of the diabetic tremor I had developed after two hours of dessert. I also noticed that I was having trouble controlling my bladder and my vision was blurry in one eye. Such is life.

After we had eaten our real dinners, I decided I needed my real dessert. As I made my way back to the dessert station and got a couple of cookies placed on my plate, one of the deans at Erin's school scolded me and ordered that I take no more cookies. She laughed in that, "I'm just kidding with you, but you really are disgusting" kind of way. I was undeterred.

Following the meal, the kids could either stand on the dancefloor and be deafened by the soothing sounds of today's Top 40, or they could make their way to any number of gaming tables around the room. These tables turned out to be an enormous success. There was no money involved, and you simply played for bragging rights, but these high school kids ate up getting to sit at a real gaming table with a professional dealer who, in some cases, looked like a hired lady. It was a hoot.

The kids who stayed on the dance floor also provided me endless entertainment. One of my coworkers noted that his daughter's school now broadcasts live video from prom on a local cable access channel. This seems like an interesting idea. He commented that he was somewhat taken aback by the fact that kids no longer dance facing each other, choosing instead to have the girl in front of the guy with her back to him. Apparently strip clubs are now providing dancing lessons.

I figure this makes the girl feel better about all the lunch money she blew getting her "tramp stamp," the common name of those lovely tattoos in the small of girls' backs that are so popular. I tried to explain to Erin why this type of dancing is so popular with the younguns, but she still didn't quite get it. I then tried to show her, but this only resulted in her smacking the top of my head and threatening to have me neutered.

At the end of the evening, as they did on the way into prom, the deans gave each kid a breathalizer. The students had been warned about the test on the way INTO prom, but they weren't aware of the test on the way out. We manned the exits at the back of the hall, figuring at least one kid would catch wind of the exit exam and make a run for the back door, but it didn't happen. This year's prom appeared to be a problem free experience, as far as alcohol goes.

Erin and I spent a lot of time discussing what the theme for next year's prom could be. This mostly involved me making suggestions featuring inappropriate slogans. For example, I suggested that they bring in Pop-A-Shot basketball goals and have T-shirts that say, "I scored at prom." I made other suggestions as well, but in the interest of maintaining our family friendly readership, I'll stop now. I figure I've already garnered myself a couple of nights on the couch with this post as it is.