O Lucky Day!

Tell me your story of luck.

I was inspired to make this entry by HD’s recent comments about the unlovely nickname he was saddled with all through high school. Sometimes plain old luck –good or bad - plays a huge role in our lives. Some thing you did or didn’t do. Something that happened to you, or didn’t happen.

This is my Good Luck story.

I went from a tiny elementary school to a very large, District high school. I did not know most of the kids there at all.

On the second or third day or school, I was walking in a side door alone. There was a guy behind me just close enough that if I had let go of the door it would have closed in his face. Which would be rude. So I stopped, held the door until he could get a hand on it, smiled because that’s what you do, and said ‘good morning’. He looked quite surprised. We walked up a half flight of stairs together. I said my name is “Swami”. He said “I’m Pat.” And we went our separate ways. (Pat seemed older, was about 6” shorter than I was, did not dress well. I was preppy all the way.)

I saw him in the hall later a as we changed classes, so I said “Hi Pat.” Again he looked surprised – but smiled back and said hi. (It’s all so unremarkable, really)

The second week of school he came up to me in the freshman locker alcove and said something. I can’t remember what. We had a very brief conversation, then he left. All my new friends boggled at me.

“Are you crazy!” “Do you know who that is!?!” Turns out, Pat was a well-known deviant delinquent. He shoplifted. He got in fights. He was ‘known’ to have broken into houses and stolen stuff. Supposedly, he pimped a couple of girls at the local mall. Oh, I got an earful of advice on why I should never speak to such a rotten person! He was known as ‘Little Al’ after Al Capone.

Because I was raised by the Golden Rule I said something like, “Well, I don’t know about that. He’s always nice to me. I’m gonna be nice to him. He’s nice.”

What I didn’t think of at the time, and what nobody thought of because we were teenage idiots, was that Pat had just left. He heard every word! So when we exited the locker alcove Pat was right there in the hall. He gave me a look I couldn’t interpret and just nodded. My friends he ignored.

So we continued to be friendly. No boy-girl interest stuff—just generically, “Hi” in the hallway friendly.

The third week of school was Initiation. My class was the last class where our school allowed initiation right out in the open, as a school “event” so to speak. So all the freshman had a list of stupid things they were supposed to wear on Initiation Day—mismatched shoes, stupid hats, stuff like that. We were also supposed to wear a toothbrush around our neck. Any upper classman could order us to ‘clean’ their shoes with the toothbrush, by kneeling at their feet and scrubbing away (because we were not allowed to remove the toothbrush from our neck.).

So as soon as we got off the bus that morning the assault began. A group of sneery older boys walked up to me and my best friend and ordered us to clean their shoes. We knelt and started scrubbing. They started to make rude comments about our bodies.

Enter Pat.

Pat walked up to the group of boys and said “Cut it out. Get up girls” (looked at me as he said this.) The sneery seniors all backed up a step or two and looked surprised. Then Pat held up one finger and said “No one messes with Swami. You hear me? Anyone messes with Swami, and I’ll take care of them later.” He didn’t even raise his voice but the sneery seniors fell all over each other getting the heck away. And I guess the word spread, because no one bothered me with stupid requests after that.

Why is this a story of luck? Well, I didn’t realize it until months later—but I was a Protected Person after that. No rowdies or wise-acres or the usual group of people who can label you or otherwise make life miserable ever targeted me. Pat’s initiation protection became a general protection. It was my Golden Ticket to a hassle free few years in high school. All because I held a door open and smiled at a boy who everyone else had so pigeon-holed that no one ever just treated him like a regular human being.

A Golden Ticket is a priceless thing! I was so lucky to get one.