FAST TIMES AT WAGAR HIGH - 40 YRS GONE BY
IT'S 1983 AND MY BROTHER CHUCK AND I ARE LATE FOR SCHOOL (AGAIN). FORTUNATELY FOR US AND UNFORTUNATELY FOR OUR MOTHER, WE HAVE THE KEYS TO HER CAR. OFF WE GO, ON A LONG ROAD TRIP (OF 5 MINUTES IN THE VAST LAND KNOWN AS COHEN -SAINT-LUC OR COTE-SAINT-LUC) TO WAGAR HIGH WHERE WE HAVE BEEN ATTENDING SCHOOL SINCE GRADE 8. CHUCK PULLS INTO THE LOT WITH A SIGN CLEARLY STATING "FOR TEACHERS ONLY" BECAUSE HE IS CHUCK. OUR FRIENDS (MOST OF WHOM WE HAVE IN COMMON) ARE STANDING AT THE SIDE ENTRANCE SMOKING CIGARETTES OR PRETENDING TO SMOKE CIGARETTES (MARLBORO RED PURCHASED ON A DAY TRIP TO PLATTSBURGH). HOMEROOM IS GYM CLASS SO WE SNEAK IN WITH OUR SWEATPANTS OVER OUR JEANS AND START A SLOW JOG AMONGST OUR CLASSMATES WHO SHOWED UP ON TIME. MORNING DRAGS ON AND WE CAN'T WAIT FOR THE LUNCH BELL TO RING SO WE CAN SQUEEZE INTO ONE CAR AND HEAD TO LAFLEUR FOR A WELL BALANCED MEAL OF FRENCH FRIES (THAT WILL SWEAT PROFUSELY THROGH THE BROWN PAPER BAG). LATER IN THE AFTERNOON, AS LAST