Ajax and Buckles

"Life is about the journey, not the destination"

My parole officer told me that during our first meeting and I never really understood it until the fucker pulled my parole because he thought I was drunk. I did two years in Jackson to figure out what he meant.

If you you have been following my blog, thank you. If this is your first visit, take your pants off because you are in for a treat. My last post I came clean about a dirty little secret that I have hidden since the mid seventies. I was forced to repeat the fourth grade because of my attraction to Bill Kennedy. I am not proud my failure, rather I felt that being held back made me the more well rounded man I am today.

Fourth grade, the second time around, was fun. While I was not the tallest kid in class, the extra year I had on everyone else gave me an air of wisdom that the other kids lacked. I found that I could influence the weak minded into doing things that entertained me. I once got all the boys in class to believe that if they all flushed all the liquid soap in all the johns at the same time, that the pipes would burst from all the bubbles. No, it didn't work and the school was without soap for a month, but is was kinda fun. Slowly though, the same two kids started to gravitate towards me during the school day.

Ajax was a lisping ginger headed boy who liked to tell dirty jokes that he learned from his babysitter. Ajax was not his real name and I have long forgotten what his real name was. Everyone called him Ajax because we had a teacher who took attendance by calling everyone's first initial and last name. A. Jacks. I thought it was a cool nickname. 

Buckles was a dirty little boy with greasy sandy hair. He was poor and dressed like it. Buckles was also a little stupid most of the time, but once in a while he would have a spark of brilliance that astounded Ajax and myself. Buckles got his nickname from his father. Well, his father gave him the REASON we called him buckles. Once in a while he would show up to school with a massive bruise on his back in the exact shape and outline of a man's work belt buckle. He always denied his dad beat him, but when I got Ajax to pretend he was gonna beat me with his belt, Buckles went completely batshit on us and started bawling 'No Daddy' or something. It took us an entire lunch hour to get him to stop trembling like some homo.

Because of our school system's complex busing route, neither of us ever met outside of school, even in the summer. Each one of us lived pretty far from each other and even with bikes it was a pretty far ride to their houses. But during the school year, Ajax, Buckles and I were like the Three Musketeers all through fourth and fifth grade. We were always on the same kickball team because we were chosen last and were always the first out during dodge-ball and the bench time allowed us to make fun of all the other kids who always seemed a little better or a little more popular. Good times. But, good times began to grow up around us. Elementary school evolved into Middle school and our friendships evolved too. 

Of all my school years, sixth grade had to have been my most awkward. I was already a year older than all the other kids and my body was not handling the flood of hormones very well. My face was like a large Domino with extra sauce, I had a weight problem that exacerbated my pungent body odor and when the wind blew I got an erection that made it impossible to sit for any period of time or walk normally at any pace. My friends were growing up too. 

Ajax had gotten very tall and was becoming quite a snappy dresser. In sixth grade, he was the only kid in the entire school who would regularly show up for class in a sport coat and wearing a perfectly polished pair of penny loafers. His red hair was always perfect too.He even had a little leather briefcase that at least once a week, a group of eighth grade boys would throw onto the school roof. For the most part though, Ajax was able to bypass the hideously disfiguring side effects of puberty.

Buckles was still greasy and poor. His mom left his dad and the beatings seemed to stop for good. Of the three of us, he was the only one who got free school lunches every day. I know this because he would sell me his pizza and chocolate milk every Thursday for a buck and a half. I have no idea what he was using the money for, it was certainly not to buy new clothes. Buckles was still wearing the same shirts from forth and fifth grade and some days he would even wear his older sisters hand me down My Little Pony shirts. Christ did he get his ass kicked by the eighth graders on those days.

The high flying days of glory we had spent locked in friendship during fourth and fifth grade had melted into lunch hours spent alone together in the middle school library drawing boobies and penises in all the history books. Some of the drawings were pretty good too. Ajax did this epic work of Hitler naked from the waist down in a History of War book, all in pen too. After four years of middle school, I don't think any book or magazine was left untouched in some way. Didja notice the FOUR years of middle school? The Plymouth Canton school system was a little over crowded and to lighten the student high school population, in sixth grade, they began a plan to move ninth grade back down to all the middle schools. We all would have to spend our freshman year in middle school.

On the surface we all bitched about it. But deep inside I knew that Ajax and Buckles felt the same way I did. In some small way, it was comforting to know that our youth was being detoured away from the adulthood of high school. Like a baby chick who purposely spends an extra day or two in it's egg, all warm and safe under it's mother. We would be able to share our library lunch hours together as good friends for one more year of school. 

Ninth grade came too quickly for my taste. The three musketeers rarely met for lunch anymore in the library. Buckles had began smoking cigarettes with a grizzly group of kids out behind the school utility shed. His hand me down My Little Pony shirts had been transformed by black spray painted stenciled band logos of DefLeppard and Iron Maiden. He had also began to smell of skunky marijuana. I know he was a valued friend, but it broke my heart to know he was getting involved with drugs. Besides, I had always thought Ajax would be the druggie.

If Buckles' turn towards drugs and rock n' roll saddened me, Ajax's transformation was like the surprise of a wet toilet seat. 

Ajax had thrown himself into the world of theater and dance. He had joined both the middle school's drama club and intramural dance squad and been elected leader of them both. His youthful sport coats and penny loafers had become black stretch pants and leg warmers. I was kind of proud of his hard work too. Yes, he did work hard. Yes, he sucked at both drama and dance. But, he worked really hard at them and he really liked what he was doing. I always regret never telling him how proud of him I was. I always gave him a pretty hard time about how much he sucked. Hell, Buckles started openly calling him a homo to his face because he thought he sucked so bad. We all used to just laugh though because we knew he couldn't be gay, not one of the musketeers.

We had all changed in some way and grown a little apart. About half was through the ninth grade we learned that the three of us would not be going to the same high schools. Buckles and I would be attending Plymouth Salem while Ajax would be attending the newer Plymouth Canton. Ninth grade would end up being the last year of The Three Musketeers. The three of us knew we would have to go out with a bang. 

The freshman dance was scheduled for the end of the school year and Buckles had a plan. He told Ajax and myself that he would provide the 'party' all we had to do was buy his ticket to the dance and get him a ride to the dance. We agreed and split the eight dollars between us and Ajax would have his 'uncle' provide transportation for them both. I told Buckles though that I didn't want any pot or drugs and he told not to worry. What ever Buckles had in mind, I was sure it was going to fucking rock.

The dance was held on a Friday night in the school gymnasium/cafeteria. The students were to end class, go home and get dressed and come back to school at 6:30. It's funny that for the entire two months I knew about the dance, it never occurred to me to ask a girl to the dance. I did have a crush on this one girl and during lunch hour even told her best friend that I liked her but when she ran back to tell her friend about my crush, they both pretended to gag, throw up and laugh. I had prepared myself that the warm touch of a woman would have to wait until high school or maybe college. So, I was going alone to the dance. I did ask Ajax and Buckles if they had planned on taking dates. Ajax told us that his 'uncle' did like him dating and Buckles remarked that he 'didn't need some bitch coming down on him'.

Friday came and when I got home from school my mother had laid out what I would be wearing to the dance. The tan three piece suit was my older brother's before he grew out of it and it had a certain Dance Fever feel to it with it's wide collars, three button vest and elephant bell bottom slacks. The disco slacks and jacket were a little tight but if I didn't sit I knew I would look pretty sharp. The cherry on top though was a thin black leather tie with piano keys printed on it that my mom had bought for me at the mall. She was so proud that she had picked it out all by her self and I was really touched. It looked like something someone would have worn on MTV. I thought I looked damn good as my mom snapped pictures of me standing in the driveway. 

My mother would be my ride to the school dance. She asked how late I would be and what time she should pick me up. Buckles grand party plan came to mind and I remember telling her that if I needed a ride that I would call her. She said 'Ok' and gave me a hug as I got out of the car. 

It was five minutes later that I realized I had no money for a phone call home.

The school was all lit up and the gymnasium/cafeteria looking like a goddam Rose Bowl Parade. There was paper flowers on the walls, bunting around the tables, streamers hanging from the ceiling and balloons on the dance floor. 

I was one of the first 20 or so kids to arrive at the dance, even the DJ had not shown up yet. Teachers we all had seen a few hours earlier in class were now all tarted up in cheap evening wear and prepping the snack tables. I remember leaving the gymnasium/cafeteria to get some fresh air and seeing the janitor in the boiler room. He was not tarted up and was still wearing the same overalls he had been wearing a few hours before. At the time, it made me sad that he was not invited to dress up for the dance.

I was outside standing near the open front doors of the school watching all the kids starting to file in. They all looked so cool. Some of them even had dates. They all looked so happy. Then I saw this red Pontiac Bonneville pull up. It was a fire engine red convertible with white leather seats and tan thin man was driving. He had Ray-Bans on and in the passenger seat was Ajax. Buckles was in the back seat. I saw him say something to Ajax as Buckles pushed the front seat forward and opened the door to get out. Ajax nodded at the tan thin driver, got out and closed the car door. 

Buckles was a mad man and immediately high fived me while Ajax proceeded to give me this mock slug across the chin and he complimented me on how sharp I looked. Before I could even say 'thanks', Buckles reminded us both about his party plan. He had what looked like a book bag with him under his jacket and told us to follow him. I looked Ajax in the eyes to try and get a read of what was planned but Ajax just winked and shrugged. So we followed Buckles to the rear of the school's utility shed.

"You guys are about to get fucked up!', Buckles announced as he produced a large glass bottle of red liquid and a clear Ziploc bag of what looked like tiny brown seeds.

"I took this from my mom's boyfriend", he huffed as he uncapped the bottle of grenadine took a gulp and handed it to Ajax.

"These are marigold seeds, eat these and it's like acid", he opened the Ziploc bag and thew a hand full of seeds into his mouth. 

Ajax took three large swallows of grenadine and handed me the bottle. It was my first taste of booze and it was sweet. I handed the bottle to Buckles as he gave Ajax and I a handful of marigold seeds. Ajax shot them into his mouth and began to chew. I followed. We all washed the seeds down with hearty swigs of grenadine. I remember trying to wrestle the bottle away from Buckles as he tried sucking the bottle dry. Our threesome of sin quickly degraded into a grassy wrestling match for the last drops of booze. We were fucking hammered.

We entered the dance floor like we owned the joint. I vaguely remember doing jumping jacks while the DJ played Staying Alive and seeing Buckles grope some girl in the corner. The lights and the music had become a part of me while I did my jumping jacks. 

Then I saw her.

It was my crush.

Even in my psychedelic haze, I could tell she didn't have a date. She was dancing alone. 

I didn't run, it was more of a hop to her side. In my hallucinating eyes I was now her date. No one would be dancing with her but me, whether she liked it or not. She did not like it. 

On the dance floor Mrs. Jacobson lightly tapped my shoulder and asked if I 'was ok?'. I told her that I was fine but she and Mr. Mendalson insisted that I needed to sit and take a little break. I sat for a little while but it was like there was battery acid in my veins. From my chair I could see Ajax and his drama friends play acting, I could see Buckles fingering some slut behind the DJ booth  in the dark and I could see my crush, the girl I lusted over, giggling and pointing at me with her girlfriends from the dance floor. It felt like the entire dance floor was pointing and laughing. 

When you know you are going to throw up, you know you are going to throw up. 

I knew I was going to throw up.

I bolted out of the gymnasium/cafeteria and tried my best to make it to the bathroom. I didn't. 

I made to just outside the boiler room where the school janitor was stationed. The pink broth that flew from my throat contained almost everything I had eaten that day. I could see the fish sticks I had for lunch, the pizza rolls I had while getting dressed for the dance and remnants of the marigold seeds I had swallowed an hour before.

"JESUS CHRIST", the janitor burped from his folding chair and card table in the boiler room. 

I was not about to let some fat fuck toilet cleaner harsh my buzz for puking in his pristine hallway, so I ran. I ran outside to the school utility shed. Ok, when you are puking, the world becomes entirely in focus. It's like the fucking Matrix, you can see everything. Heaving pints of pink vomit from my knees I could count every single cigarette butt on the ground. Under the wet dirt I could feel the difference between Pepsi Cola bottle caps and Coca-cola bottle caps. I could also fully understand that the black leather tie with piano keys printed on it that my mother had purchased for me was entirely ruined. From my chin to my waist, I had entirely ruined my suit.

I knew I couldn't go back into the dance, so I waited till I could see Ajax or Buckles come out. What seemed like eternity passed when I saw a fire red Pontiac convertible pull up. Ajax's uncle. My savior and ride home! I saw Ajax exit the school and enter that long sleek convertible. 

I ran up 'Can you give me a ride home?", I asked.

The tanned 'uncle' looked me up and down. I could tell that my muddied disco suit stained in pink vomit was not a good match for the Bonneville white leather interior. He looked at Ajax and slowly shook his head.

"Maybe you could catch a ride with Buckles, he is going home with that girl", Ajax added.

I nodded and they drove off. I waited in the shadows but never saw Buckles come out. I think he left early or something. 

Oh well. It was a long walk home. You could say it was a journey home that night. I grew up quite a bit during that walk home. About half way home, I made a promise to myself that I would work my hardest to do smart and successful things and not act stupid or do stupid things. Well that promise lasted about six weeks. But, it's the journey, not the destination. 

Every week I find myself kneeling and stained in my own vomit is a chance to promise myself that I will never allow myself to kneel in mud or walk home stained with my own vomit. Hell, I am doing better than both Ajax and Buckles (I'll tell their story another time). 

It's the journey, not the destination.