Nerd

I had my first cigarette when I was twelve. My friend **** and I sat on the field at Bronxville School and, well, back up. I don't remember where we got it. I think we may have had a whole pack of them. Anyway, we were sitting there on the field and we had a camel light in our hands. There was this girl in our class who had a really hot older sister and she was sun bathing about thirty yards from us. So we took this cigarette and I pulled out my Swiss army knife and held the magnifying glass to the tip of it. Smoke appeared and the gun powder paper caught and all of a sudden we were holding a smoldering death stick. Hahahahaha. We didn't cough or anything - the trick was to pull in the smoke past your throat. A lot of people freak out when they feel that cancer-pillow going down their esophagus and that's when they cough. Not us. So we each took a drag and were practically stoned from the nicotine buzz. **** turned to me and he said, "you know, they say you're addicted after five cigarettes." And I said, "Well, I guess we'll just have to stop at four."

I once rode home from a bar on top of an SUV. Not the whole way, just the last couple of miles. There were five of us. I mean, I thought there were five of us in this Lake Tahoe or Explorer or whatever the hell it was. So the music is blasting and we're all feeling good and I think Foreigner or Rush or something came on and it was all over from there. (I must preface this by saying that the driver was dead sober. SOBER. He didn't have a couple "easy beers" or "social beers" and he wasn't high. That shit isn't noble or necessary, it's stupid.) We're driving along and the song is crazy and guy on the right side of the back sticks his head out the window and lets out a "Whoop!" Then the front-seat passenger does the same. Even the driver starting hooting and hollering. Overcome with the energy in this SUV, I skipped over merely sticking my head out the window and just climbed out and onto the roof. The car/truck/thing had a sun roof that was open so laying on my belly on the top of the car, I stuck my head through the sunlight laughing like an escaped serial killer. And the faces that greeted me were a mixture of shocked and ecstatic and out-of-control. I kept laughing and screaming and dipping my head through the opening while people poked their heads out yelling and spitting and cheering. I rode that car like a magic carpet.

Two friends of mine from Cape Coast, a small city in Ghana, have seen Home Alone. I met these guys on the beach. I had a ring that my sister had given me. I still have it, actually, but I don't really wear it anymore. Still have it, still have it. So I'm on the beach and somewhere this thing has fallen off my finger. It's white sand, it's a huge beach and it's fucking Equator sun bleaching everything except the color of African skin. As I'm looking for this ring, some guys come up and offer to help. Sometimes, when a Ghanaian offers to lend a hand, they want to hear about America or London or New York City. These guys wanted to talk but weren't too agressive about it. After a few minutes, one of them found my ring. I was so happy that when they asked to meet later that night, I said sure. They came to the hostel we ('we' = the eight American students in the city) were staying in and we started talking. Me and these two college-age, college-attending Ghanaians. One of them had seen Home Alone. What the fuck? Really? He liked it a little which I thought was fine. We began to walk around in the street and ****** asked if I wanted to see their dorm. The building they brought me to had open ceilings between every room, exposed stairwells with no railings, columns where one would expect walls and young attractive Ghanaians crawling all over it. It was an Escher painting. I mean literally, it was a fucking Escher painting. So we climb up flight after flight until we reached the roof. *** said come to this side and when I turned a corner, I was looking at the lights of every building in Cape Coast, the road leading out of the city, and the black blanket of the Atlantic Ocean. ****** was training to be an architect. That's what his father did and he wanted to design buildings for Ghana. *** was studying Political Affairs. Both wanted to travel but come back to Ghana bringing back whatever they had learned. Both wanted to have an adventure in a strange place. Both wanted to meet new, heart-deep people. Both were me and I was them and I think all three of us knew it.

I don't wear hipster pants.
I don't play the guitar.
I don't listen to fucking Dave Mathews.
I don't use Facebook for anything other than my band.
I don't text while I'm talking to someone in person.
I don't watch television unless it's a movie or Family Guy.

Sometimes I listen to progressive rock.
Always, I wear my helmet when I ride my bike.
I call my mother four times a week and talk for over an hour at least once every five days.

I'm a nerd. See how I did that?