remnants of college life

Contextual tid-bit #1
One of my favorite activities is googling people that I know to see if anything scandalous comes up. I would even be satisfied with some mildly interesting. Even a posted resume on monster.com or something would do just fine. Alas, my searches usually come up fruitless. This evening, I ran out of people at work whose full names I know and ended up googling myself. Guess what- my name actually came up right there in the number one slot.

Contextual tid-bit #2
During my college years - and this is before I dipped my toes in the sea of blogging - I would sit down and write random stories when I was a) highly caffeinated, b) procrastinating, or c) intoxicated. Chances were that at any given point during that last year at HC I could be found in one of those states of being between sleep periods. Moving along, I wrote the following story at the beginning of my senior year at Holy Cross, sent it to Joanne as a joke, and she then went and got it published in an annual bilingual / Spanish and Latin American-inspired literary magazine that Holy Cross puts out. Anyway, I'm going to plagiarize myself for this post.

15 Minutes of Fame

"My turn? I’m first?,” said Paco, feeling increasingly distressed as five of his pals crowded around him in excited anticipation. His eyes darted from one friend’s face to the next. He knew something big was happening. Many of his relatives had made the big journey into the city for this very event, and he was finally going to see what the fuss was all about. He thought he was going to throw up all over the place, and it scared him to just think about how mortified he would be. Word on the street was that the royal family was even going to be making an appearance today. What happened if... Oh, he didn't want to think of what would happen if...

An older gentleman wearing a name tag that read “Manolo,” must have noted that young Paco was about to suffer the effects of a crippling nervous breakdown because he promptly left the room, returning moments later holding something in his hand. He smiled his harmless four-toothed grin and gently patted Paco’s back to soothe him. The sight of this innocent older man and his consoling touch already left young Paquito feeling relieved.

Paco jumped, his eyes bulging, upon seeing the needle that Manolo was wielding; it looked like a torture device! “Hey there buddy! Don’t be scared of this little needle, it’s only going to help you out in there. You’re gonna need it!” Paco couldn’t have agreed more. He could hear the hoards of people as they pushed through each other on their chaotic search for their seats. A few stray music notes somehow managed to make their way through the roaring cheers of the crowded arena, signaling that the band was warming up for the big event.

Boy, was Manolo right on with that medicine! Paco felt almost instantaneously calmer. He was in control of his emotions. His mind seemed just the slightest bit cloudy, which he attributed to his thoughts trying to get themselves back in order. His heartbeat had finally stopped assaulting his ears and had returned to his chest, where it should have stayed in the first place. His confidence was slowly returning as he thought to himself, “Hey, this won’t be so bad! I hope the royal family is here, I’ll show them what I’m made of!”

He was proud of the body he had built up over the past three years. He had been eating right, exercising daily, avoiding the lifestyles that had led to several members of his rural community being kidnapped by a mysterious pack of men, presumably to be killed. He didn’t want that for himself, and he wanted to honor the memory of his late father. Finally he had reached a point where his aunts told him that he was the spitting image of Paco Sr., which filled the young Paco with such pride and elation. He was in the prime of his life, and he was ready for anything.

His best friend, Javi, pushed him, reeling him back to the present moment. Back to the cheers, to the music, to the excitement that lay before him. “Hey P, are you OK? You look a little confused or something.” Paco shook his head back and forth trying to clear the fog. “Sí, sí. I’m fine... Just thinking about papá, ya know? I think he’d be really proud of me today.” Javi nodded his head. They had been friends since infancy because their mothers had become quite close when their husbands went missing on the same fateful day over two years ago. “Don’t worry, P, we’re gonna make everyone proud. We’ll have such stories to tell!”

All of a sudden the crowd went quiet, making way for the festive tunes of the band to set the mood for the celebration. Paco’s nerves set in again, this time making him feel more sluggish. Everything went into slow motion as he was welcomed into the large arena with almost deafening cheers, muffling the joyous trumpets. He glanced around at his audience. He was surrounded by smiles and floating, and had to chuckle at the irony: here he was, in the prime of his life, and half the people watching him were these crusty old men who looked about ready to die.

Paco quenched these feisty people’s thirst to see him by taking a quick jog around the place, showing off his muscular physique. Oddly enough, he was feeling increasingly tired and groggy. He shook it off. “It’s just the stress... I just gotta get my adrenaline goin’!” All of a sudden, everything got so much s..l...o....w......e......r. It all came together in the course of about half a second. His mind snapped into gear, panicking, while his body slowed down with fatigue. His father’s disappearance, the medicated syringe, his mother’s overly tearful good-bye, the dirt below his feet, the sweat pouring down his face, his clueless band of childhood friends waiting behind him, the slam as the door was swung shut and locked...

He looked to the royal family with a final look of desperation, but noticed they weren’t even looking at him. Their attention was focused on a young man appearing from behind a wall, the hot Andalusian sun reflecting off of his skin-tight, sequined suit. Then, as the pair of feet, clad in pink tights and ballet slippers, slowly padded towards Paco in the soft dirt, he heard just two words over the cheers and jeers of the crowd. As he saw the immense red cape and the glinting sword come into view, he just barely heard the young man yell: “¡Venga toro!”