So, what is the common link that links a Unemployed Kid in Kingman, AZ, a Army Grunt in Germany, and two College students an hour apart in North Texas?
The answer is unfortunate: El Paso, Texas.
This post on Olympus: Our collective past, how did we meet? Why didn’t that dissuade us from ever coming close to each other again?
And how does the TX-9410 AFJROTC Unit figure into this?
I swear to God, if I ever see you again, I’m going to punch you so hard you are going to shit blood. Anyway, now that that’s taken care of, my first encounter with a member here was my first day of high school. I walked into the ROTC room, found a seat in the front (not by choice) and heard a distinctly shrill voice come from the rear of the room.
“Hey, I think there’s someone here who’s shorter than me!” – Snow.
Soon after that, we were taught to march. Snow picked me out from the crowd and gave me personal instruction.
Nevermind! Holy shit. My first class in high school, ever. Journalism. I walked in, not knowing what an awesome (and easy) class it was going to be. The teacher, Mr. Murray, called roll, and he discovered that there were two Alberts in the class, Anaya and myself. Out of frustration, he dubbed me “Sharky,” a moniker that will follow me to the grave.
Okay, so I know these two, and Snow eventually starts taking me to hang with his friends in the courtyard. After the routine hazing, the worst of which was me being tackled onto the pointy end of a nearby boulder, followed closely by Snow fracturing my kneecap, I guess I kinda knew them all well, including Rick (not really interesting at this point).
Eventually, I came into some money, and Snow and I ate huge pizzas and 2 liters of Pepsi for the rest of the year… good times. Flash forward to my junior year, where I was promoted (against my will) to another officer position within JROTC. The next week, the Corps Commander got fired or demoted or something, and Rick took the job. That’s the most awesome year ever started. Highlights include “Granging it up,” “1337 House,” Rick breaking the record for longest-serving CC (until the next year, when it was broken again, and is now impossible to break), and Rick blowing red lights, Anaya failing at deceleration, and Snow failing at shifting. You guys suck at driving. Then they all graduated and I moved away to a dying town of Kingman, AZ.
A question, if I may – I drove an automatic….how did I suck at shifting? Or are you speaking of the SUPER REVERSE incident? Alright, here is now it went down – moved to El Paso for 6th grade, and was playing Gameboy in class. This real faggish (yes, I said faggish) guy next to me, with his binder of pokemon cards asks “Is that pokemon?” And I said to Albert, “Yes it is.” And that was that. I met rick when we used to beat his ass in 6th grade. Following 6th grade, he grew a spine, and that slowed down a bit. Sharkis said exactly how I met him, but left out one detail – I beat him with a steel ruler til it broke. Also, the day he was promoted from Lackey to full fledged minion
Ha! Got the coloring to work again
I actually got the first meet here, with Mr. Kit and I were teamates on a terrible soccer team in a terrible league all the way back in 1997. (AYSO- Everyone plays means Noone wins). On the plus side, Kit and I tamed up to mask our incompetence with time wasting games. I met Anaya way way back in 5th grade (1998), through a mutual friend, David Cox (Rest in Peace). Back then we had an awesome circle, but as we grew David left us for cooler people and Anaya and I were united under a mutual devotion…to Pokemon! Great times. Kit joined our new awesome circle of friends, later dubbed “The Kabal.” I guess I met Snow in middle school, but as we all aged it’s hard to remember interacting much with him back then, especially as one had to lower one’s chin more and more to talk to him. (Cheap shot, my apologies).
Anyways, long story short, I met Sharqi somewhere along the line thanks to Snow, and as we three got promoted in the corps (In Snow’s case, promoted, demoted, then promoted six steps at once, then demoted four, and so on.) we became our own little clique, which grew, by my last year of high school, to run the show. Sharqi’s right in saying that was the best year of my grade school time: I had to bristle only under my own responsibilities, rather than other authorities, and I delegated to the point that by the last six weeks I only bothered to show up for class and participate almost no further, autopilot FTW. The best thing that happened back then was my car, Paco, a 89′ Accord. Not only did it enable me to flee my house at will, but I had awesome times abusing it. (Handbreak stops – pure awesome).
It’s like Snow says, two years later it’s good to still be shooting the breeze with these guys like we just got out of 4th period English.
BTW, Sharqi, the former corps photographer, has way too fucking many pictures and videos of me. Being my personal photographer and forcing every cadet to see my face constanly was propagandic genius, and even I was taken in by it’s grasp.
The moral? I’m awesome, and you have Sharqi to blame for my Ego.
Most of these stories are right. I could have sworn that it was a gameboy (but still pokemon) that I was playing which began our friendship. Sharkis I know mostly from that first class my Sophmore year of High School. I still remember such incidents as the Sprite and skittle concocktion. Rick, wellhim it’s hard to remember when exactly I met him. I know it was in the fifth grade. And the first real memory I have of him would have to be the safety guard stuff, with the computer in the belt.