School's Out!
We thought we were really stylish when we left school, 19 years ago, going to The Italian Gardens, the poshest restaurant in town, for a pizza without our parents. Proms were something that only ever happened in American movies. A Piledriver disco at Winterton Rangers football club, little better than a wooden hut with some staging, supervised by an assortment of teachers, was probably the best we could hope for as an organised event.
Today, you are nobody if you don't arrive at your Prom chauffeur-driven. There were no less than 6 local schools all holding their celebration on Friday night. Every other car on the road was a stretch limo. I'm not sure which school picked this venue but I'm guessing it wasn't a Grammar.
Jack's own Prom was at Normanby Hall, the ancestral seat of David Cameron's father-in-law and the most impressive setting for miles around.
There had been some discussion about the travel arrangements, the general consensus being that limos were 'naff'. Something bolder was needed to deliver the right impact. One of the parents was even dispatched to check out helicopters. The cheapest she found was 900 quid but it wouldn't have had enough room for them all. The stretch Hummer, the bright yellow one, might not have been the most discreet vehicle on the road that night but it was cheaper than a chopper.
Apparently, it is now also traditional to have a post-prom party, a riotous, alcohol-fuelled, debauched debacle, usually at the home of some poor unsuspecting numbskull parent. Guess where Jack's was!
It was fine. The 30 local cretins that tried to gatecrash at the start eventually got bored of sitting on a neighbour's wall waiting for Moustache Mark, my personal bouncer, to drop his guard on the gates and drifted off by about 00.30am. I got to bed by 05.35 and even managed some sleep after a few hours. It took only 2 trips to the tip to dispose of 20 black bin bags, one double futon mattress and a single one, both soaked through with vomit ( fortunately not Jack's, he'd given up on the stress and gone to bed at 3am). I'm sure the smell of cider will eventually fade in the gym. I'm just thankful that I discovered and confiscated the 2ls of vodka and the full bottle of Absinthe before the party started. We only had to return one complete dinner suit, 3 tee-shirts, a pair of earrings, a stereo, a tie, a trilby and a stick-on bra!
Today, you are nobody if you don't arrive at your Prom chauffeur-driven. There were no less than 6 local schools all holding their celebration on Friday night. Every other car on the road was a stretch limo. I'm not sure which school picked this venue but I'm guessing it wasn't a Grammar.Jack's own Prom was at Normanby Hall, the ancestral seat of David Cameron's father-in-law and the most impressive setting for miles around.
There had been some discussion about the travel arrangements, the general consensus being that limos were 'naff'. Something bolder was needed to deliver the right impact. One of the parents was even dispatched to check out helicopters. The cheapest she found was 900 quid but it wouldn't have had enough room for them all. The stretch Hummer, the bright yellow one, might not have been the most discreet vehicle on the road that night but it was cheaper than a chopper.
Apparently, it is now also traditional to have a post-prom party, a riotous, alcohol-fuelled, debauched debacle, usually at the home of some poor unsuspecting numbskull parent. Guess where Jack's was!
It was fine. The 30 local cretins that tried to gatecrash at the start eventually got bored of sitting on a neighbour's wall waiting for Moustache Mark, my personal bouncer, to drop his guard on the gates and drifted off by about 00.30am. I got to bed by 05.35 and even managed some sleep after a few hours. It took only 2 trips to the tip to dispose of 20 black bin bags, one double futon mattress and a single one, both soaked through with vomit ( fortunately not Jack's, he'd given up on the stress and gone to bed at 3am). I'm sure the smell of cider will eventually fade in the gym. I'm just thankful that I discovered and confiscated the 2ls of vodka and the full bottle of Absinthe before the party started. We only had to return one complete dinner suit, 3 tee-shirts, a pair of earrings, a stereo, a tie, a trilby and a stick-on bra!
posted by Cherrypie at 5:31 pm
15 Comments:
To be honest, I don't recall any major parties after finishing school, college, or university, but I'm sure I've made up for it in the meantime!
Hmm. I was in transit between schools my junior year, so I missed that prom, and I had to work on prom night my senior year.
But I did make up for it during our college spring formal (four bottles of champagne on my own) and during an incredible, alcohol-fueled incident in grad school that involved three-quarters of a bottle of Absolut and a plate of fried mushrooms at a bar just above the Virginia State Penitentiary, a trip through a car wash, and hallucinations that I flew back to my hovel.
Kids here now have to sign pledges to go to a controlled, alcohol-free post-prom and post-graduation party monitored like Gitmo during suicide watch.
THose were the days . . . .
I think we walked out of school at lunchtime, straight into The Fox and had a pint with a couple of teachers. Then a couple of days later there was a disco at the rugby club about which I remember very little except Eddy Grant's Living on the Frontline and having to catch a ferry to Belgium early the next morning . Kids these days...
Simplicity itself for us (all of 22 years ago - ouch!). We went up the pub at lunchtime and got hammered!
I can't ever remember having a school leaving party!
Was I drunk?
No, never touched alcohol in them days...
I must still be having my party by instalments...I think I'll stretch it till I peg out!
WooHoo GRAD!
I was formidably resplendent and paraded about in a powder blue TUX with 4" suede Ziggy Boots!
Grad was a huge deal here and if you got home before 6am you obviously forgot to fulfill your mandate.
Actually, now that I think about it, the only real difference between Grad and every other weekend was the TUX!
Ahhhh Prom nite! I went to two proms, my school's and my boyfriend's. Both nights I stuffed my Scarlett O'Hara-type dresses into a 1970 VW beetle. We went to the dance for a while then took off to Motel 6 for the after-parties. I was grounded after both prom nights but it was well worth it.
Schools over here were just starting to have proms when I finished A levels.
I spent more money that I could really afford on a dress, and bullied my boyfriend into accompanying me.
I don't remember it being all that good really, just a load of people from school drinking and dancing, could have been any Saturday night except for all the tuxes.
We left early, and therefore missed the toilets being trashed and various other destructive activities which lead to the venue deciding to ban all schools from hiring it as a prom venue ever again.
Here it's called Grad and I went to mine, even if it was donkey's years ago... (must use all the English colloquialisms I know here...) But volunteering to host the After Grad? (as the party after the dinner/dance is called...). You are either a saint or a fool. Or a bit of both... :)
I was a late bloomer and had no interest in the Prom, but I'm pretty sure they weren't all night affairs in our area back in the day. I say you are a very wise (brave, but wise!) mom to allow the celebration at your house. I'd rather nearby to keep an eye on my kiddos, even if it means having to trash a futon, than have them partying who-knows-where! (I'm looking 9 - 10 years into the future here, and it is a bit scary!)
Did the 60s ever happen - were we wasting our time there. Come on guys, let these kids party. Some of you talk like a load of 1950s throwbacks.
We didn't have anything like this when I left school. As far as I can remember, on the day of the last exam everyone just went home. I can remember thinking it semed like a bit of an anti-climax.
We had am end of school thing, but I hated the school I did my a-levels at. I spent the whole night with a smirk, glad in the knowledge I didn't have to see the asswipes again!
Late seventies...lunchtime pub meets with cool teachers whom we had to stand drinks for as the price for being underage.
No prom for me...they discovered I was working evenings hence my lack of attendance at school and I was asked to leave.
We partied anyway up west most weekends...shame I can't remember most of it.
Uhhh, a friend of mine asked me to come by and pick up her stick-on bra . . . . . . .
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