Prom 2005 - Remembering Forever Chaperoning the Enchanting Night Under the Magical Sea of Sparkling Stars 'Til the Lovely Dawn

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We arrived a few minutes later than expected, weaving around Escalade and Hummer limos to find a parking spot. We walked up, passing the line to enter the building that stretched around the corner. As we closed in on the entrance, I noticed staff pulling boys aside, patting them down. A girl was in an argument with our female principal about how high a dress slit can be. A female staff assistant, the nice name public schools apply to security guards, was looking through a purse.
The Counselor, whose chaperoning duty was to spend thirty minutes at the door, said to me, "It looks like they got it covered."
The four of us split apart, weaving between these policing stations. Mica followed me around the guys' line and I heard a "Hey!"
Mica stopped and I turned around.
"Where are you guys going?" the goateed activities director asked me.
"I'm a teacher," I say.
He looked me up and down.
"For this high school," I explain.
He just nodded. "Okay," he said with a faux smile and turned back to frisking someone else.
Too bad the male adolescents didn't realize that all they needed was a suit, no acne, some facial hair, and a strong attitude and they could have gotten into the prom for free.

The four of us walked around the ticket takers and congregated on the other side to walk into the main dance hall together. Farah broke off from us when she saw one of her students near the dance floor. She ecstatically embraced her student whom she had seen the day before.
The rest of us kept moving.
Exiting the dance floor, we entered a large courtyard with tables and chairs scattered around, benches surrounding light filled trees--perfect for makeout sessions later in the evening. Walking through this wonderland we searched out the source of echoing screams. A small canopy was set up for karaoke.
The Counselor and her date were bantering, so I left and joined some other chaperones, listening and watching the karaoke with cringes and laughter. I spoke with a few of the teachers, was introduced to a few more before tuning my ears back in to a rendition of "Margaritaville." Someone's father had too much of an influence on his kid. When "Bohemian Rhapsody" came on for five teens to sing, the Counselor and Mica joined me. We couldn't even make it to the middle of the song. We grabbed virgin daiquiris and wandered over to an enclosed parking lot. There were two lit fairytale carriages circling the lot. The horses clopped along as boys tried to get on base behind the top-hatted driver. We found the makeshift photo studio and slowly wandered back. So we decided the stuffy darkness and the pounding bass of the dance floor would be best to save our sanity.
We walked the perimeter of the dance floor, being careful not to be drawn in by Fity (50) Cent or Nelly. We found a few other chaperones clumped together by the hors d'oeuvres table, covered with raw veggies, chips, an assortment of dip, and a quickly vanishing platter of chocolate covered strawberries. I realized that the activities director was standing next to us.
I held out my hand. "Hi, my name's Matt Montoya," I said, "I teach at Wilson High School...ELD."
He laughed in good sporting manner and shook my hand, "It's nice to meet you. It was just that you looked so young."
"Actually I'm forty," I replied, straight-faced.
He leaned his head back and gave a hearty chuckle.

The Counselor and I noticed a guy with no coat, rolled up sleeves, a thin black tie hanging losely off to the right. Sweat was collecting, all over his face. He wiped his forehead and used it to soften his hair that had been pushed upwards to resemble a mohawk. He was talking rapidly to his date as he took her hand and dragged her to the dance floor. We discussed what possible drug he was on. I suggested speed, the Counselor thought crystal.
Our attentions were redirected by a shift in the music from the towering speakers. Probably due to a high schooler's late twenty-something date's request for a late '80s, early '90s block. If there was anything to get Mica and me on the dance floor, it was "It Takes Two."
The Counselor, her date, and I joined four thirty-somethin' chaperones on the dance floor. Mica initiated early '90s rapper hand motions as he recited some of the lyrics. I channeled my funk side to my pelvic thrust. The Counselor called upon her hippie arm waves. With the seven various styles of dance, we started spreading out, taking up more of the dance floor.
The block would've been incomplete if it didn't have Sir Mix-A-Lot. Mica took over, flashing his vocal abilities for my coworkers. At that point, the fiftyish reading teacher showed up, arms pumping back and forth. Her eyes were wide, mouth agape with glowing enthusiasm. She stepped forward, interrupting Mica midline so he had to move back to let her in. But she didn't slow him down. "Yeah!" she yelled. She stepped back to take a picture of the bouncing-in-unison colleagues. Her excitement fell to a smile and then she moved on.
Tone Loc came on next with "Wild Thing." Our fun slowed as a party cam started scanning the crowd, searchlight ablaze. I wondered if that was a duty I could've volunteered for. The party cam displayed a dance off of a fearless white boy taking on some "sistas" with "junk in the trunk." He was probably on H. Our dancing came to a halt as he started gyrating and challenging, using pointers probably taken from "You Got Served." After a while, the moves seemed to resemble the South Park episode, "You got F'ed in the A." But he was fearless, scaring his opponents off one by one, until a zoot-suited teen with smooth moves stepped out. Hero Heroine kept going, failing to realize he was losing the battle to absolute fluidity.
Sweaty, aching, the dancing chaperones parted. We went looking for fresh air. Outside, the three of us found a trio of girls screaming through "Bohemian Rhapsody" and decided to try closer to the entrance.
We stood around the bar near the entrance rehydrating.
Our tall principal walked up.
"Mr. Flores," I said, "and how are you?"
Without responding he looked at the three of us and said, "Hey, can you keep an eye on people's belongings at the tables. Students are getting things stolen--purses, cameras."
"Uh, sure," the Counselor said.
"Thanks," he said and strode off.
We moved to where we could watch some tables, then we started laughing.
"Watch their stuff?" I said. "It's high school. They're dumb if they think of leaving anything valuable lying around."
Mica added, "What am I supposed to do? Hey, stop, that bag's not yours. It doesn't match your dress."
The three of us contemplated the futility of watching hundreds of students' things.
"What's up guys?" Farah approached smiling.
"So you see a lot of your students?"
"Yeah," she nodded.
I looked over to Mica, but he was in talks with the Counselor, cracking wise. I felt an inner groan towards Mica, hogging his date away from her boy toy.
"You missed the dancing," I said to Farah with a smirk.
"Really?"
"You missed Mica's love for big butts."
She looked over at him. Mica did not look back, so I had to keep the conversation going on my own. Part of me wanted to say, "How about those new copy machines?"
I thought quickly. "Did you get out and dance with any staff?"
"No," she said, "just wandered around finding my students."
"We were with a few teachers. It looks like nobody's really doing any of their jobs. Did you see Marini at all?"
Farah leaned in as if she didn't hear me mention my original date's name.
"What time is it?" I said aloud, then proceeded to take out my cell to check the time. "Maybe I should call her. She should be here by now," I vamped.

I hung up the phone and turned to the Counselor, "Marini's here. She says she's been here for forty-five minutes!"
"Where is she?" she asked.
"I've been looking everywhere for you guys!" Marini said from behind the Counselor. They hugged. I got one from my date. She shook Mica's hand and waved to Farah.
"Do you guys wanna go get pictures?" she suggested. "I was just there and the line's not too bad. I was like looking for you guys all over the place!"
We shrugged to each other and started walking over.
We lost Farah along the way to some more of her students.

We stood around waiting for our turn to take our pictures, running into a vice-principal who seemed frantic.
The V.P. shook her head. "How's your night going?" shaking her head in expectation of a better answer than what she would give to the question.
We answered.
Still shaking her head, she said, "Well, it's been an interesting night. There are some girls that have gotten through with slits higher than their dates." Her eyes rolled. "I don't know how they're getting through the front."
"I saw a Paris Hilton wannabe in a pink tube top earlier," I said.
"Yeah. These girls! You saw the tablecloths right?"
"What about them?" asked the Counselor.
"They're shorter this year." The V.P. leaned in, whispering, "Last year we caught kids having sex under the table."
"What?!" we exclaimed.
She nodded. "Uh huh. Can't they wait until they leave?"
"Yeah. The Disneyland Hotel's only a few miles away," I remarked.
The V.P. continued sharing the events of her evening. My date, Marini, took me aside to apologize for being late.
We got back on the topic of skimpy outfits and I explained, "I've seen a few outfits tonight that shouldn't be here. But me being a guy and all sort of prevents me from, you know, pointing out their wardrobe flaws."
"Yeah. Well you shouldn't be checking them out like that," she said smiling and then burst out with a laugh.
"That is what I could get accused of, for looking. I mean look at that girl there," I pointed, "The orange dress. No, the other orange dress. The back is all open. Her dress seems to be barely hanging on to her butt there. And her revealing her rolls like that doesn't do her justice."
"That's just wrong."
"I'd get in trouble if I approached her and said you shouldn't be wearing that."
Marini looked at the dress. She went over to the V.P. She pointed out the orange dress to the administrator, who shook her head and stormed off on her mission.
Being faculty and staff, we were able to cut ahead of the other groups in line. Mica and I were seated, posed with one foot lifted up on a grey-carpeted cylinder. My date stood behind me, my woman behind Mica, and Farah, centered. Mica and I did a GQ pose, one elbow resting on raised knee, looking off at the same point to the right. The first shot was taken. The second flash went off and then Mica snickered. He announced that he looked back at the camera for the second shot. Thanks Mica.

Exiting the photography room, another Queen epic cover was closing out at the karaoke tent. Yes, really, a third time. We groaned. After they finished, the best karaoke performance was given--"Ice Ice Baby" sung/rapped with exuberance by a student's date, decked out in full Marine dress uniform. We gave loud applause and Mica let out a cheer in respect, for even the jarhead seemed to have a piece of what he had on "Baby Got Back."
The night was winding downas the prom king and queen were announced. We went inside the no longer stuffy dance hall; its atmosphere had devolved into a musty mugginess, body odor and Axe body spray reeking from every direction.
Marini let out a long, high pitched cheer and jumped up and down after one of her students was announced as Prom King.
We moved closer to the entrance, re-rehydrated, and decided it would be best that we leave before having to take part in herding buzzed, horny teens out to their vehicles.

Farah followed Marini and the Counselor, Mica and I bringing up the rear. I heard Farah say to my ladies, "Can we go get some alcohol now?"