My senior year in high school, we were warned that senior pranks would not be tolerated — I don’t remember the exact wording, but dire consequences were threatened. Still, we wanted to do something, and so (with the reasoning that if we were trying to do something nice, we wouldn’t get in trouble) we decided on a “senior surprise.” We chipped in money to buy popsicle-like treats for the upper school to be distributed during lunch, make decorations, and (most importantly) rent a big inflatable slide.
The night before our big event, a big group of us gathered at the parking lot of a nearby strip mall (The Plaza) — we thought it would be more stealthy if we didn’t all drive directly to our high school. To get pumped up for our late-night adventures, we had an impromptu dance party in the parking lot. It was a little ridiculous, but it also sort of epitomizes what I liked about my high school (aside from the theatre department, which in my mind was basically completely separate from the high school itself) — it was a very “class bonding” kind of moment. Over a third of the class was there (based on an old photo I dug up); quite likely, it was closer to half the class or even more.
There we were, at night, in the middle of this parking lot, dancing around and singing to Cascada’s “Everytime We Touch,” and getting ready to make signs out of sheets and arrange a jumbo slide by the soccer field. When I think back, the whole event seems a little surreal (Did we really do that? Who even thought it up?), but it was pretty epic.
I’m not really a school pride sort of person (well, I mean, except for Bryn Mawr, of course), but every now and again, I’d get caught up in the rush of excitement from everyone else. Preparing for our senior “surprise” was one of those moments. Whenever I hear “Everytime We Touch,” part of me is eighteen again and infused with a sense of belonging to my class and my high school.