For whatever dumb reason I thought it was important to be able to covertly smoke cigarettes inside Wilton High School when I was 17 and 18. Talk about a stupid bullshit distraction but in my infinite infantile wisdom I thought it was cool to light up in the boy’s bathrooms (there were two or three) and get away with it. Four or five friends felt the same away.
But then we were busted by the head English teacher (his last name was Moore) and then a week or two later by the head disciplinarian, Richard Sell. We were told we’d be suspended if it happened again. I couldn’t risk this so I came up with a new plan — cigarettes in the girl’s room! I proposed the idea one day to a couple of 17 year-old female friendos and they said “sure, c’mon inside, no worries.” So I caught a smoke or two in their girls-only sanctuary, and of course I was busted again.
But this time the stink of tobacco wasn’t the problem. For I was immediately suspected by Sell, you see, of possibly taking unwelcome liberties with the girls and, you know, acting inappropriately. Sell privately questioned two or three who were there at the time, asking “did Jeff say or do anything that made you feel funny or otherwise crossed a line?” No, they all said — he was just looking to light up without being caught. For a day or two this was actually a thing.
The idiotic stuff that wraps you up and ties you down in high school…amazing.