Things that got you in trouble as a Child

I was in trouble so often when i was a child, i couldn't begin to choose one incident--i started getting in trouble in the first grade.

But that comment reminded me of an incident which was actually sort of funny in what was for us a horrifying way.

Someone in the family was ill, i don't remember who it was, but it was decided that my sister and i had to be gotten out of the way, so we were handed over to my cousin, who was eight years older, and was in her first year out of high school. Therefore, she was very sophisticated, and had her driver's license. So, she was given my mother's car (very big deal--in those days everyone bought a new car every two years, so this was a fairly new car), and she drove my sister and me to the nearest small town, which, although small, was larger than the even smaller town we lived in, and had more in the way of entertainment--just barely.

One of the forms of entertainment which was available was a pool hall. We had a pool hall in our town, too, but i was just the back room of a little greasy spoon, with two tables. The one in this town was an honest to god pool hall with eight tables, and the owner of the cafe/pool hall supervised the pool room, racked the balls for each game, and collected the money before each game. I happened to be pretty good, so we played straight pool, which was a penny a minute, and allowed the three of us to play a long time. That pissed off people waiting for a table, but my cousin, who was no bigger than a minute, had real attitude, so nobody tried to make trouble for us.

Well, they also sold beer, and at that time, although the drinking age was 21 for boys (men?), they had this weird notion that girls could be expected to be more mature, and the drinking age for girls was 18. (You can imagine the kinds of trouble this lead to until they changed the law a few years later.) So, my cousin could buy beer. She would get a long-neck beer, and my sister and i would watch the pool hall owner like a hawk and take sips when we were sure he wouldn't notice. Soon we were all feeling pretty good, and then realized we'd have to get home for supper soon.

Well, we piled into the car (no seat belts in those days), all of us in the front seat, with my sister in the middle. My cousin was feeling her beer (the three of us had split two bottles, and that made my sister and i giggly, and my cousin, i now realize, had a pretty good buzz on). Cousin makes a corner pretty fast, and i was thrown to the side, grabbing out for anything to hold onto--and grabbed the door handle. Before i knew what was happening, i was hanging on to the door handle for dear life, and being dragged along by the car. My sister was screaming hysterically, and my cousin was actually doing her best to drive responsibly, and keeping her eyes on the road, so she didn't immediately know what was happening.

"STOP

THE

GODDAMNED

CAR ! ! !"

My cousin finally looked around, saw me and slammed on the brakes. I slewed around, and ended up pointing the other way, still feebly clutching the door handle. My cousin and my sister stared at me in horror, and i just lay there, dazed and gasping. Finally, i looked at my cousin, and we both began tittering--then we were laughing uproariously. My sister was horrified at first, but then she began laughing, too. Finally, some old farmer behind us began honking his horn, and leaning out the window to yell at us, so i got up, and my cousin pulled the car over to the side of the street.

I was wearing a brand new pair of Levis (six bucks a pair, which was pretty expensive in those days, but they were the Levis brand), and the right pant leg hand been worn off down to the skin--and i had a pretty good road scab. So now we had to figure out what to do about that. We weren't very bright about that sort of thing, but the old farmer (this is how we knew he was a farmer) came up--he had apparently pulled over after we did--looked at my leg, and said he had just the thing. So, we went to a local park, and he and i went into the bushes, where he poured turpentine on my leg. OH MY GOD--it was all i could do not to scream, but it certainly did stop the bleeding and washed the blood away.

Then we had to find a place that sold new Levis, which meant we had to drive to another town which was 15 miles away, and my cousin drove like a bat out of hell, because we still had to get home for supper. So here we are, with me between my sister and my cousin, all of us walking some jokers in a silly comedy movie, with both of them pressed up against my left and right sides, so no one could see how torn up my Levis were (the right leg was hanging in tatters, the left leg had been torn up when she hit the brakes and i slewed around). But, we got a pair of Levis in the right size, i went in the dressing room and changed, and we headed home. We just got there in time. After supper, my Aunt sent her daughter out for ice cream, at which point my embarrassed cousin had to ask her for money, because she'd blown the last of her cash on a pair of Levis for me, and enough gas so no one would ask her where the hell we had been. Years later, my Aunt (who was a real pip) told me she had smelled beer on us when we first came home, but had kept her mouth shut because everyone at home was stressed out over the illness.

Wow . . . that was an adventure, and i'll bet i haven't thought of that day for 30 years or more, until i read your comment.

What doesn't kill you makes you sting.

Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe . . .

Ok, I wasn't all that good - we once stole a school bus. I was just smart enough to not get caught.

Yes! That is the worst part about it all for a kid I think. Getting a spanking is nothing compared to thinking you are bad. I often thought that if I could go through it all again, but just with the knowledge that I wasn't crazy and that they were, it would be so much easier. Or just with the knowledge that childhood is a fleeting speck of ones life.

If you could just see how fleeting all of that is going to be in your life it would be so much less drama. The cruelest part about being a kid is how slow time passes for you. When you are 4 years old a year is 25 percent of your life. With that kind of perspective a year seems like a life sentence and childhood travails seem like they will always be with you. Then you become an adult and it becomes almost comical.

Ha, that reminds me of my water experiment. I'd asked an adult if water rots and was told it doesn't. I didn't believe him, all the food I'd had would rot in my experiments. So I put water in a Parmesan cheese tin and hid it on a high window sill. Thing is, it still had a bit of cheese in it I guess and began to fester something awful. My experiments were frowned on for the odors they would produce as well!

Jesus! Are you serious? I once had to bathe in turpentine (we had painted ourselves head to toe) and it was one of the more painful experiences of my life (really stings your privates!) and that was without any open wounds. I can only imagine how much that would sting on an open cut! I have a very high tolerance for pain, and that is something I considered very painful.




It's kinda fun remembering all the silly stories from childhood though isn't it? All these stories are taking me down my own memory lanes as well.

The area which had been abraded was about the size of a french loaf, on the outside of the thigh. It was not deep cuts, just abraded skin--it still hurt like billy-be-damned, though. Apparently, though, some old timers used turpentine that way, just as some people today would put an antiseptic cream on a wound. I could tell the farmer was watching to see how i'd react, too--and even at that age (about 12 or 13), i was enough of victim of machismo, and sufficiently proud not to give him the satisfaction.

Thought of another one....

This is one of those situation where one gets in trouble without doing anything bad......

A couple of girl friends and myself were going to the movies at our local mall. Movie was: Star Wars - The Empire Strikes Back. Well, the show time we wanted to see was sold out, so we looked at the board and it showed another one starting in about an hour. Well, this was fine but being only a teen at that point, I had to find a pay phone (no cells back in those days) and call my mom to tell her, I would be an hour later than planned coming home. Ok, fine no problem.

So my friends and I go to the food court and get a bite to eat, wander around the mall for a few laps and then head back to wait in the seating line for the movie we bought tickets for. We go in and see the movie. (fantastic!)

We had arranged for my friend to call her parents who would come pick us up once the movie let out. Because of the popularity of the movie and the fact that this was a Saturday at a busy mall, there were lines for the pay phone. So we are standing there and are next in line for the phone when I spot my parents station wagon. (it was unique so there was no mistaking it was them) Well to my horror. My mom, steps out of the car in the middle of the driveway and yells to me to "mm25075 <middle name> get over here right now!!!!!" I was so embarassed as there was probably 200+ around standing in lines for the next showings of the movie and now they were looking at me as I headed to the car.

So I leave my friends to call their parents and get into my parents car. According to step dad (who was driving) I was a good for nothing slut that was lying when I said that we missed the first show and that there was no possible way the movie could have lasted more than 2.5 hours because 'most movies were only 1.5 hours) and "what the hell??" was I doing waiting in line to see the movie again. (from where they were apparently it appeared I was standing in the seating line)

I got questioned time and time again. "What were you doing at the mall all that time?" I was truthful in my answers, and I know my mom believed me, but stepdad somehow convinced himself, I was a juvenile deliquent. (no matter that I had never once gotten detention or in trouble at school or anywhere else.) Yeah, the whole ordeal did wonders for my social life with my friends who found it quite difficult to make any plans my parents would approve of. If every minute was not accounted for in a pre-plan, I just couldn't go because stepdad would have a fit!

Care to share?

Sure " in college during senior week, the college provided us with school buses (and drivers) to go out to various celebrations in the areas (partying basically). After leaving one particular event (I think it was a sox game), there was the usual line up of school buses to take us inebriated soon to be college graduates back to campus. My group of friends boarded the first the bus " we were a bit earlier than the rest of the gang.

The bus was left running with the radio on (the bus driver no where in sight) " one gentleman stepped up to turn up the radio volume. I screamed out to him " come on lets go, I’m tired of waiting, just drive. He jumped into the seat, shut the door and began driving. Fortunately he had not been drinking. I asked have you ever driven a bus before " he stated no, but I’ve driven a stick shift.

Then we hear sirens " damn! The “driver” pulled aside and the police car went speeding past. Whew that was a close one. We continued on " as we were getting closer to the college " we realized even through our drunken stupor that campus security could be waiting for us. We parked a distance away, left the bus running and took off.

The next evening, prior to our next event, the entire class was given a severe talking to with threats of you better tells us who stole that bus, etc. Nothing came of it " however, I did hear that the following the college had difficulty finding another bus service company.

Good story!

This line, and the fact ya'll were drunk, reminds me of a totally unrelated story.

An old roommate told me this one about her sister.

Her sis, Heidi, while in college was living in some big old house way far out from town.
One Christmas, she'd invited a bunch of girlfriends to stay for the holidays. It was up in the Boston area I believe.
She drove out and picked the friends up from the airport, then stopped at a liquor store for beers.
Well, it was a long drive out to the house, and eventually everyone had to pee, really bad. "How much farther? How much farther?".

Finally, Heidi, who'd been drinking as much as the rest of them said "Oh God, I can't stand it any longer! I really have to pee! I'm just going to stop here and go."
They were on some dark back road, and she just got out of the car and pulled down her pants right there.
All the other girls then piled out and did the same thing.

They all eventually got back in the car and straped in. Heidi starts the engine, drives about 2 feet, and turns into the driveway of the house.






That was so Heidi.

Ahhh...the college days...I have plenty from those days. I'm amazed that I survived.

I was In class one, when a class fellow always got my pocket money , At last she failed and I got rid of her.