April 1, 1998
Spring is the time for quirky holidays, some serious and others less-so.
Technically, Saint Patty’s is not within the boundaries of spring — by just a couple days — but it is to me; it always fell within Spring Break, which makes it spring. I’m not exactly sure what Saint Patty’s stands for, but it’s a good excuse to drink dark beer and celebrate your Irish heritage, however minute.
There’s May Day. According to Wikipedia, May 1st was celebrated by pre-Christian Europeans as the first day of summer. May Day is also International Workers’ Day, commemorating the Haymarket Riot of 1886. There’s Arbor Day and Earth Day (my half-birthday, by the way), when tree-huggers like me plant trees and promote environmentalism. Mother’s Day falls on the second Sunday each May. A week later spring takes a more destructive tone for Armed Forces Day. California and other southwest states celebrate Cesar Chavez Day in late-March; Missouri has Truman Day on May 9th; and Massachusetts and Maine observe Patriot’s Day on April 19th, commemorating the Battle of Lexington and Concord. And how can I forget Cino de Mayo?
Last but not least is today, April 1st: April Fools Day. Wikipedia has a good list of public pranks, including a 1957 BBC special on spaghetti trees grown in Switzerland. Today, Gmail’s homepage outlines its newest feature, Custom Time, which allows users to send pre-dated emails (only after April 1, 2004, Gmail’s launch date). They did a similar prank last year, advertising a service for printing individual messages. I was fooled by both; before logging into my account I read over the outlines and thought, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” The email printing service had me fooled for a while, but I knew better this year.
I don’t recall being the butt of any personal pranks, but I was a part of a somewhat memorable April Fools 10 years ago when I was a freshman in high school. It’s nothing big; just something I remember.
It was common for City High and the school district to receive bomb threats. They were mostly harmless pranks, but each was taken seriously regardless of the source. Everyone had to evacuate the building so janitors and administrators could open every locker and thoroughly search the school. For 15 minutes or more the entire student body stood outside on the lawns of the campus, waiting for the bells to ring. A few people I knew had baggies of weed disappear from their backpacks during the mysterious time when we were outside. Bomb threats were particularly popular during the winter months, when everyone had to idle in the cold. I guess someone got a kick out of making high school kids freeze for no reason.
April 1, 1998. I don’t remember the times or the chronology of events — just the day and the sober hysteria that filled the hallways and classrooms. On that day we had three bomb threats within a couple hours (I do remember that). We all knew the drill and thought nothing of it the first time: We calmly walked out through the nearest exit, and when the bell rang again we walked back in to resume the day. Twenty minutes later the fire alarm (which doubled as the “bomb threat alarm”) rang again, and everyone looked around, both perplexed and excited about another small recess; we could run around and find friends in the disorder of the emptied school. Rumors spread about the threats, and some believed this was finally the real thing. Someone said three bomb threats was the limit for the day; after a third we could go home, and everyone crossed their fingers as we walked back in for a second time. Later on the fire alarm buzzed again, and for a third time the students slipped outside. Everyone was cheering and smiling. We were going home! After milling for another 15 minutes the bell rang again and everyone went back to class, eager for the announcement that the rest of the day was cancelled. It never came, though, and everyone hoped for a fourth bomb threat, which also never materialized.
Between classes, in the crowded hallways, I heard how certain people had contacted their parents and been excused from their remaining classes. Who wants their kid attending a school that receives numerous bomb threats? These lucky kids were at their lockers getting ready to leave. For a brief moment they were the envy of everyone passing by. Everyone was probably thinking the same thing I was: How can I get a hold of my parents, and would they excuse me? This was before everyone had cell phones (wow, that makes me feel a little old), and I knew neither one of my parents would consent to let me leave early if I called them from the public phone in the main foyer, which had become the most popular thing in the school. People were lined up hoping to convince their parents they should leave. Others took a more rebellious approach: They’d leave anyway. I saw them walk out the doors with their backpacks and spring jackets and trot away. Skids. I wondered if they used the time off to perfect the hang of their wallet chains.
Technically, Saint Patty’s is not within the boundaries of spring — by just a couple days — but it is to me; it always fell within Spring Break, which makes it spring. I’m not exactly sure what Saint Patty’s stands for, but it’s a good excuse to drink dark beer and celebrate your Irish heritage, however minute.
There’s May Day. According to Wikipedia, May 1st was celebrated by pre-Christian Europeans as the first day of summer. May Day is also International Workers’ Day, commemorating the Haymarket Riot of 1886. There’s Arbor Day and Earth Day (my half-birthday, by the way), when tree-huggers like me plant trees and promote environmentalism. Mother’s Day falls on the second Sunday each May. A week later spring takes a more destructive tone for Armed Forces Day. California and other southwest states celebrate Cesar Chavez Day in late-March; Missouri has Truman Day on May 9th; and Massachusetts and Maine observe Patriot’s Day on April 19th, commemorating the Battle of Lexington and Concord. And how can I forget Cino de Mayo?
Last but not least is today, April 1st: April Fools Day. Wikipedia has a good list of public pranks, including a 1957 BBC special on spaghetti trees grown in Switzerland. Today, Gmail’s homepage outlines its newest feature, Custom Time, which allows users to send pre-dated emails (only after April 1, 2004, Gmail’s launch date). They did a similar prank last year, advertising a service for printing individual messages. I was fooled by both; before logging into my account I read over the outlines and thought, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” The email printing service had me fooled for a while, but I knew better this year.
I don’t recall being the butt of any personal pranks, but I was a part of a somewhat memorable April Fools 10 years ago when I was a freshman in high school. It’s nothing big; just something I remember.
It was common for City High and the school district to receive bomb threats. They were mostly harmless pranks, but each was taken seriously regardless of the source. Everyone had to evacuate the building so janitors and administrators could open every locker and thoroughly search the school. For 15 minutes or more the entire student body stood outside on the lawns of the campus, waiting for the bells to ring. A few people I knew had baggies of weed disappear from their backpacks during the mysterious time when we were outside. Bomb threats were particularly popular during the winter months, when everyone had to idle in the cold. I guess someone got a kick out of making high school kids freeze for no reason.
April 1, 1998. I don’t remember the times or the chronology of events — just the day and the sober hysteria that filled the hallways and classrooms. On that day we had three bomb threats within a couple hours (I do remember that). We all knew the drill and thought nothing of it the first time: We calmly walked out through the nearest exit, and when the bell rang again we walked back in to resume the day. Twenty minutes later the fire alarm (which doubled as the “bomb threat alarm”) rang again, and everyone looked around, both perplexed and excited about another small recess; we could run around and find friends in the disorder of the emptied school. Rumors spread about the threats, and some believed this was finally the real thing. Someone said three bomb threats was the limit for the day; after a third we could go home, and everyone crossed their fingers as we walked back in for a second time. Later on the fire alarm buzzed again, and for a third time the students slipped outside. Everyone was cheering and smiling. We were going home! After milling for another 15 minutes the bell rang again and everyone went back to class, eager for the announcement that the rest of the day was cancelled. It never came, though, and everyone hoped for a fourth bomb threat, which also never materialized.
Between classes, in the crowded hallways, I heard how certain people had contacted their parents and been excused from their remaining classes. Who wants their kid attending a school that receives numerous bomb threats? These lucky kids were at their lockers getting ready to leave. For a brief moment they were the envy of everyone passing by. Everyone was probably thinking the same thing I was: How can I get a hold of my parents, and would they excuse me? This was before everyone had cell phones (wow, that makes me feel a little old), and I knew neither one of my parents would consent to let me leave early if I called them from the public phone in the main foyer, which had become the most popular thing in the school. People were lined up hoping to convince their parents they should leave. Others took a more rebellious approach: They’d leave anyway. I saw them walk out the doors with their backpacks and spring jackets and trot away. Skids. I wondered if they used the time off to perfect the hang of their wallet chains.
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