Fall in May

~6~ A Day of Firsts

"Lates for work flocker gotta fly! Oh and princess, could you please possibly try not to get pregnant this year? At least not until after playoffs are over, okay?" 

I admit I am more than a little envious of these other flockers, in that they all get to slam their doors back at the driver. Something which most of them really seem to enjoy with a great deal of relish.  

Waiting with the rest of the lucky flocks at the final corner stop sign across the street from Hell, I give the place a quick once-over. My new temporary learning facility sits seven long flights of stairs up on hilltop bluff, looking judgmentally down Hill street. It's all white, the stucco walls not the people, although they mostly seem pretty pale to me too. The whole place is covered with those round red clay tile things on the roof, which gives it that Spanish slavery Mission vibe. Like someone recreated what they thought a private high school for Conquistador kids should look like?  

Hills High even has one of those three-story tall judgmental Spanish copula bell tower things, guarding the entrance to its hallowed halls. Which only adds to the impression of oppression, like a looming Tower of Doom. That seems to have no apparent purpose, other than to loom above the seven flights of concrete stairs waiting to pass judgment on me. I imagine this is what the tower of The Eye in Mordor would look like? But like after the giant Evil Eye left when all the fun was done. All impotent and empty.

"Well sure Lord Sauron it looks like a lovely tower. But I gotta ask...will it burn?" The dark voices in my head ponder. "Cause I really have to wonder what that there tower thingy you're so proud of would look like on fire? With orcs and wraiths and shit, screaming and running around everywhere like a towering inferno. I mean how bad could just one little fire be really?"

The thougth of this whole place on fire is one hell of a cheery vision, as I join the rest of the flock of pissed off early risers. As we stomp en masse up the seven flight of stairs to the entrance to Hell. 

When I finally reach the top the stairs, I cross the threshold for my first day of Hell. The first thing that strikes me as very odd and slightly disconcerting, is that people are just walking right into the entrance of Hell. Like right the flock in ...like they own the place? There are no burly security guards in wannabee cop windbreakers standing around acting like they run the place. No metal detector lines and...no metal detectors?

WTF? No metal detectors? What sort of self-respecting educational institution does not have metal detectors in a post-Columbine world? Hell's bells, my freshmen year at Seaside we had some massive yard fights with the Skinheads from the House of Hate, with cops and helicopters and everything. The metal detectors might have put a stop to the knives, guns, razors, and the rare ceramic kitchen knife. But the thing that really killed them was that they never could figure out how to put an end to the sharpened pencil shanks. Not without completely giving up the illusion it was still a school ...instead of just a holding facility? Yeah, a lot of Skinheads got lead poisoning during that year, until they all died out from a massive freak hemlock meth poisoning. Stupid skins smoked the Christmas Koolaide and saw the face of God for the last time. But dogdamn that was a great Christmas in Sunset!

The hallowed halls of Hell are already packed with throngs screeching Falcons returning to the roost. All of who are decked out in school colors, deep purple and blue. So thanks to all the school spirit in full effect, the long central corridor basically looks like one long writhing bruise river. But thankfully I don't have to fight that particular current yet, as my first stop is the Main Office, right next to the front entrance.

So I stroll into the wide main office, which is exactly what you think it is, a glass-enclosed fishbowl reminiscent of an old-style police station. The authoritarian motif is complete with a raised barricade for all the desk sergeants to glare down disapprovingly on the incorrigible masses. With it's circa early Inquisition décor, Torquemada himself would have really loved the suffering woody ambiance of all the dead trees screaming in this place.