Is it really March? The weather down in Florida is great this time of year, and the dry season is in full swing in Panama, but here in the DC area it is still winter. We’ve avoided snow and the dreaded wintry mix over the past three months, so you’d think spring would be right around the corner. Wrong! We got slammed with about a half of foot of snow overnight. So I figured I’d take my mind off the weather, and crack open a bottle of Abuelo Añejo, add a splash of coke, take a few good hits and . . . whooooooaaaa . . . flashback coming. - It’s nighttime on the beach at Santa Clara, I’m cold (relatively speaking), and I’m trying to get a fire started. I’ve got a Zippo lighter whose flint is flashing in the dark, but no fuego. I take the Zippo apart, turn it upside down and feel that the wick reservoir is bone dry. Where the heck am I going to find lighter fluid here in the middle of the night? Hmmm, where’s that bottle of Carta Vieja? So I pour a little rum into the Zippo, put it back together, give the wheel a little spin with my thumb, and . . . holy crap, I think I singed my eye brows.
Geez, I must have had way too much Añejo, I didn’t mean to flashback all the way to 1967, I only wanted to go back to the memories of our two reunions last year. Hard to believe it’s been over a year since we were in Panama and eight months since Orlando. So let’s see what’s been going on.
Those of you who remember the suave and debonair singing voice of Attorney Eduardo de Alba will be happy to learn that he has launched a recording career that was inspired by his, ah, visual experiences at the reunion in Orlando. His first ever recording, “Culita Bonita,” has gone platinum in the Latin American market. His follow up hit, “La Luna de Mi Amor,” is sure to be as popular.
So what happen? I was watching an interesting drama play out in the vicinity of our class’ tables at the PC Society Ball on the Saturday night of the reunion. I was proud of myself for even recognizing something was going on. I had been in charge of making frozen daiquiris at our suite most of the afternoon and into the evening before the Ball, and I was nearly overcome by the fumes. Ok, so there weren’t really any fumes, but I was pretty much numb from my chest to my ears. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, Jeannie J. At the Ball Jeannie was wearing an attractive black ensemble whose top was very sparkly, and she left a trail of sparkles everywhere she went. You know, my wife will not be amused that after eight months, I still remember what she was wearing. For some reason Chris M had revenge on her mind (must have been something I did in Panama), because she would scoop up the loose sparkles and rub them on me. Although I appreciated the rubbing, her stated intent was to get me in trouble with the aforementioned wife who was not in attendance at the reunion, but presumably would want to know where I picked up all those sparkles when I returned home. Anyway, all of this activity and sparkle rubbing drew the attention of a couple of guys who were nervously circling in our vicinity. First they’d eye each other, and then they’d eye us. Or more accurately they were quite interested in the sparkles, um, Jeannie’s, not mine. It was almost like being at the Balboa Teen Club. Finally the guy that was a Saturday Night Fever, John Travolta look-alike, dressed in a Clorox white three-piece suit swooped in and swept Jeannie off to the dance floor. This left the other guy (whose clothes I proudly don’t remember) scowling and in a cloud of sparkles. So I’m not sure what happened. I hate it when I can’t finish a story. Or perhaps I’m better off not asking about the outcome, after all, Jeannie is a TSA supervisor at the Orlando airport, and I think I have just put myself at risk of being cavity searched every time I go through security at any U.S. airport!
Did you know that the BHS Class of ’68 is trying to establish a world record and be recognized by the Guinness Book of World Records? That’s right, we are attempting to set the standard for the most traveled condom (still in original package of course). The famous ’68 condom mysteriously surfaced in January 2008 in Panama among the loose purse contents belonging to Darlene. When said contents were spread on a table, a squealing Darlene denied that it belonged to her and insisted that it was planted (perhaps ‘planted’ is not the verb I’m looking for) ok, mixed in with her stuff by Neil D (BHS ’67 and honorary ‘68er). Fast forward six months and a few thousand miles to Orlando. The very same condom somehow showed up in the lost and found box at the class’ hospitality suite. During our class dinner, Neil was welcomed up to the speaker’s podium in front of all of the assembled classmates to re-take possession of that little bad boy. It is assumed that our prophylactic friend has now traveled with Neil back to Seattle, and unofficially our little friend has logged approximately 12,500 miles. Tammy, we leave it in your capable hands, or whatever, to make sure “Little C” is only used as a travel companion for Neil.
As you might imagine, some weird things happened during the reunion. For example Caron A had three pairs of shoes ripped off from her room. I also noticed that Patty S was dancing the nights away barefooted. And did you know that when it was time to pack up and go home, Timmy L couldn’t fit all his “stuff” back in his suitcase, so had to purchase another one? Coincidence? I think not! I wondered why Timmy shaved his legs.
I believe I have uncovered a conspiracy perpetrated upon some of 68’s finest damsels by certain male individuals who graduated from BHS in the early 60’s. You be the judge.
Darlene Woodruff ‘ 68 – Husband Joe Hunt ‘64
Janet Hunt – Husband Norm Watkins ‘63
Fran Stabler – Husband Ron Meyer ‘64
Elle Ermish - Husband Mac Lane ‘63
Taffy Koepke – Husband Tim Corrigan ‘64
I’m thinking this is a little strange, but Darlene and Janet have asked me to announce to the class that they now want to be referred to, both collectively and individually, as “Janlene.” Well, they are lifelong bosom buddies and sisters-in-law. (Yeah, I just had to work the word “bosom” in there didn’t I?) Just open up any Panama Canal Society’s Canal Record and you’ll see pictures of the Watkins and Hunt families together in Panama or on a cruise to Alaska. Let’s face it, a sustained friendship like theirs is very special and one to cherish. That’s why Janlene (the one married to Norm) likes to tell stories about Janlene (the one married to Joe). Last June, the 247 Janlene family members boarded a cruise ship bound for Alaska. As those of you who have taken cruises can attest, you are guaranteed to gain at least 10 pounds per 7 days onboard. Janlene was determined this would not happen, and set out on day 1 of the cruise to the ship’s fitness center. Sure enough there was a huge crowd (also kidding themselves) in the center, and with all the treadmills full, the cacophony was deafening. Wait, Janlene spots an empty treadmill and steps on it – oh crap it’s on! I’m sure you can visualize Janlene assuming the Superman flying pose then being unceremoniously dumped behind the treadmill. Meanwhile, the person who left the treadmill running comes back and yells at Janlene for trying to steal it. I’m thinking that is the insult to injury stage of the story. Anyway, the fitness center staff finally takes some action and takes Janlene to the doctor’s office where she is treated for cuts to her knees and bruises to her ego. The shipboard staff also announces that they will perform a full investigation of the incident. So now Janlene is thinking free cruise at the least, and perhaps a new Mercedes. Upon completion of the “investigation”, however, the cruise company found Janlene completely at fault. Huh??? Ok, so I’ve been giving this some thought. I believe the cruise ship is registered in Panama, so if we can get Eduardo out of the recording studio, we’ll get him to sue the rat bast…. I mean cruise line. What do you think?
Best to everyone, Jim B