Elementary school cafeterias are so cliche. The bland lunch tables. The generic food. The elite cool table. And everyone else.
As an oldest child, I generally kept out of trouble. I had a responsibility complex and it was ingrained in me to set a good example. But when provoked or when I otherwise deem it necessary, I can stand up like nobody’s business.
I don’t recall who started the harassment, or what, exactly was said. But an entire row of my male classmates were giving me a hard time. (I just recalled – I know I was wearing the soft brown wide-wale corduroy because the aftermath is etched in my memory.)
But I had had enough.
I took a heaping spoonful of pallid chocolate pudding, leveled it horizontal, grabbed the spoon end with my right index finger, pulled back, turned it sideways, and let it go.
I nailed a whole row of smart-mouthed boys right across the face.
It was epic.
As was the food fight/cafeteria brawl that ensured.
I know this because one of those boys has both messaged me on Facebook and provided a descriptive play-by-play in a comment thread over the past couple of years. He STILL remembers! And this must have been at almost 45 years ago.
It was, truly, one of my proudest moments.
Amazingly, I don’t recall an inquisition on the part of the school administration and I don’t believe a single one of us was punished for the uprising. Or the horrible mess.
And I generally behaved myself outside of that moment.
But it remains a proud moment of culinary adeptness. And I don’t regret it.
[Day 14 of Ann Dee Ellis’ 8-Minute Memoir.]