B.I.S.P., NOT THAT

John Hughes had a gift for capturing the teen experience in the 80’s. The daily struggle between feeling like a stranger in a strange land, completely misunderstood, and being accepted, even admired, by our peers was real.

This leads us to my story and a moment in my experience, as an 80’s teenager, which was one of many embarrassing times in my life.

First, a little background leading up to this embarrassing moment. In the 80’s, sweatpants were to teenage boys what yoga pants are to many women today. We wore them all the time and they were comfortable.

Acronyms were a thing a long time before texting even existed on our phones. As teenagers, we would make up new acronyms all the time. For instance, there was already HBO, UHF, and MTV, just to name a few. Well, we also had jokes like, “What has three balls and comes from outer space? E.T. The Extra Testicle." We also had U.B.I.S. which meant “Unnecessary Boner In School” or B.I.S.P. which meant “Boner In Sweatpants.”

Yeah. We were teenage boys, what can we say? We had little control over how our dirty minds worked, and even less control over our bodies.

Given this background and newly shared knowledge, we can move forward with my story.

As most stories begin...It was a day like any other. I was moving through school, from class to stimulating class, and -- like many junior high school students -- completely thrilled to be there.

I walked into my math class five minutes early, like I normally would, because the teacher would punish us with push-ups if we were late. Everyone was subject to this punishment, including the girls. He was strange, just like the location for this math class. He was also a shop teacher and we sat just outside the shop area for our class. The shop teachers at my school were either pervs, really weird, or both.

So, we’re sitting there taking turns being called up to the chalkboard to complete the problems in front of the class. It was, honestly, just like any other day. As I sat there, I began to realize several things all at once, converging into a perfect storm of traumatic “hormonally-challenged” life experience.

This was different from the time in fifth grade when, while we were exercising in the gym as a class, my newly developing chest was jiggling, in the form of man boobs, as we did jumping jacks with several girls pointing at me while giggling. It was embarrassing but not nearly as traumatic as what was about to happen, today, in this very moment…

What was happening, you ask?

As I sat there in class awaiting my turn in front of everyone (including a girl who I had a crush on since fifth grade), I realized that my math class had suddenly become more “stimulating” for my body than my mind. I also realized I had chosen to wear sweatpants today! Yes, my proverbial “tent was being pitched” just seconds from being asked to stand up in front of everyone! Whether I wanted it or not, my mental and physical “attention” would be put on display and…

I. Wanted. To die.

It’s moments like this where we find peace with death or anything that would remove us from what was about to happen.

I sat there. Mentally having “hostage negotiations” with myself. Pleading. Trying to find ways to calm or deescalate the situation. I was the monk on the mountain. Eyes closed. Breathing deeply. Focused on the breath. Trying to find a calming, inner peace.

The problem wasn’t with my inner peace at all. It was my “outer piece” and its complete disregard for anything or anyone, namely me. It had a mind of its own and couldn’t care less about how its actions, in any given moment, would destroy my life.

“Doug? Mr. Scavezze?” I heard my teacher calling out as I broke my mental spiral into madness. I felt the sweat on my upper lip and forming in my armpits.

“It’s your turn. C’mon.” He said, as I just sat there. Time and space didn’t exist. Everything slowed down and it felt like an eternity until I was able to clear my throat and respond.

“Uh. I don’t understand.” I replied. He snapped back, “You don’t understand what?”

“I don’t understand how to do this one. Can someone else take it, please?”

He looked at me with a sneer. “Really?” He said. I felt like he knew something was up.

Oh, and IT DEFINITELY WAS!

I don’t know if he could see the desperation in my eyes or if he just didn’t care enough to press the issue. Whatever the reason. My heart began beating again and I took a deep breath as he asked the next person to step up and complete the problem.

What? He saved my life with a simple nod to the next person. I couldn’t believe it!

I felt the blood flow returning to my body, away from the area where it had decided to set up temporary command operations. It began de-pitching the tent on my jungle campsite. I had survived the unimaginable. My social status intact, I breathed a sigh of sweet relief.

The next day, walking through the halls, one of my classmates saw me and shouted, “Hey, what’s up, BISP?!”

I stopped, dead in my tracks, realizing this would be my new name. The name that would follow me from this point on and well into the future. At high school reunions and any time I ran into someone I went to school with. This was my new life. I had assumed a new identity. It would be like some messed up witness protection program, where everyone forgets who I was before and only knows me by my new name, BISP.

My life was over and the Tsunami wave of jokes about to crush me would forever change my life.

As we walked into the cafeteria, I started looking around for the loneliest section of the room. This would be my new spot. A place for just me and my shame.

Grabbing my tray and food, I walked towards this metaphoric island to sit in silence.

Just then, I heard my friends say, “Where are you going? Come over here! You gotta hear what happened in gym class yesterday!” He started talking about some trick he played on another guy in the locker room. It was at that moment I realized they didn’t know about what happened yesterday, in my math class.

I also realized that the guy who called me “BISP” only did it because I was wearing sweatpants, again, that day. He was only saying it because it was funny to him when someone in our group wore sweatpants. That’s it. Nothing else.

Everything was going to be ok. I wouldn’t be outcasted. I wouldn’t be humiliated...I also wouldn’t be wearing sweatpants anytime soon.