French Kiss

Did I ever tell you about my first French kiss?Probably so, but I'll do it again.

You see, we used to sneak into the Admiral Twin drive-in. Before we were old enough for cars we'd go to those spots around the fence that had been torn apart and raised up and spread around so that sneaky kids like us could climb under. Sometimes they'd fix them with more wire but usually there was a spot somewhere that was easy to find and easier to get through. It was dark after all. And we'd always find a way in.

You just raise the torn part of the fence, crawl under and then saunter in among the cars. You'd walk to the concession stand like you came from your car. There was a mess of vinyl seats in front of the concessions and a bunch of preteeners would be there every single night, especially on the weekends. I think the management knew we snuck in but we spent enough money on Cokes and Milk Duds and hot dogs that they thought we were worth it.

I have fond memories of Anette Funicello and Elvis Presley movies. It was also great to hangout in the concession area with friends. Some of the friends were the cool people. Not me. I wasn't in the cool group but I was considered cool in my group. I was cool of the uncools. But the cools were there. They all sat together in one little area. We, the uncool, had the run of the remainder of the concessions. I think now that we had it better, though preteens never notice that stuff. We just knew we weren't cool.

So anyway, there was a fine young dark-haired lady in my uncool group who called herself Jo Jo Smith. Yes, that was her name, Jo Jo. Dang she was something. She liked me. I couldn't understand why but she sure did. She sat with me and walked with me and she was nice to me and all that. We even kissed sometimes when I got to feeling brave.

Well there was this one Saturday night when some great movie was going on and most eyes were on the screen and me and Jo Jo had been feeling especially close. She was very sweet with me that night and I was feeling quite fine and there was a point when she leaned over at me and gave me a really warm, nice, full-lipped kiss. It was really great. Maybe the best kiss I had up to that point in my very short life. She wrapped those nice, comfy and gorgeous arms around me and squeezed in real close and right in the middle of that kiss she stuck her tongue in my mouth.

I had never had that happen before.

I had never even heard of that before.

I reacted. "Bleah".

I sat back and spit.

My friend who sat in a chair just in front of us looked back and said "What's the matter?"

My voice carries. (I think I could've been a radio announcer or a T.V. car salesman. )

And everyone in the concession stand heard me.
Even the cool ones heard me when I said "SHE STUCK HER TONGUE IN MY MOUTH".

People laughed. People are cruel.
People made fun of me.
They pointed.

Cool people turned against me and ensured, not only my forever being banned from the cool crowd but that sutuation made sure that I wasn't even going to fit in with the uncool crowd after that display of nerdness.

I didn't go back to the Admiral Twin that summer.

I never saw Jo Jo again.

I've grown up with a fear of French kissing and have to overcome my subconcious tendancies to close up by pretending I'm chasing Vodka in a watermelon or something when I kiss.

I'm sure Jo Jo grew up to be a lesbian and always wonders why.

That's why I've never gone back to the old neighborhood. Cool people might still be there. They might be waiting for me. Talking about me at cocktail parties or at reunions.

Laughing at me.
And poor Jo Jo.