The Last Birthday Party

The last childhood birthday party I attended was for a kid named Vincent. He lived a few blocks down the street from me. Vinnie, as I believe he goes by now, had a big old house with a swimming pool. He was one of those semi-popular kids who tagged along with bullies but usually didn't make too much of a fuss unless someone more popular told him to. From time to time when I meet people and say I'm from Ringwood, inevitably they or their friend or their friend's sister ‘used to date Vinnie.' He's perhaps the most popular man from North Jersey.

I was never really friends with Vinnie. Rather I knew him because you know everyone in their third grade class. I was invited to his birthday simply because that's the sort of thing you do when you're in elementary school: you just invite everyone in your class because your parents think it is rude not to.

Anyway, Vinnie had a pool in his yard. That alone perhaps made him super cool, I'm sure. So he had a pool party and everyone went swimming and then there was burgers and hot dogs, and then Vinnie would open all the fun toys that thirty classmates buy for their 'friends' at birthday parties. Only that is not exactly how things went down.

My parents dropped me off, had a quick chat with the other parents no doubt, and then the parents left and the kids jumped in the pool. We swam around, went down the slip and slide a few times, shot each other with water guns. It began as a fairly typical eight year old birthday party. Then it came time to eat.

There were, if I recall, two or three outdoor tables piled high with sodas and gifts and things like that, and then a few plates of hot dogs and hamburgers and whatever else. I had taken a seat at a table waiting for the food to come out. A few others had started taking their seats too. Then the other chairs around my table filled up, probably with more people more popular than me.

We were sitting at a table without any soda. Someone more popular than I was told me to get a bottle of soda from the other table. When I stood up and grabbed the two-liter of soda, some other more popular kid promptly took my seat.

Wait a second, I thought, I was getting the soda for everyone at the table. That was clearly my seat since I had been sitting in the chair. There were no other chairs. That's when things all started to unravel.

As I said, I lived just a few blocks away, and more importantly, I knew the way home. But of course, you can't, when you are seven or eight, simply walk away from a birthday party. The hosting parents usually frown on this.

I believe that the local bullies had made some taunting remarks after taking away my chair, the one that was rightfully mine. I probably started crying because that is what I did when I was seven or eight. That of course only lead to more taunting and things like "cry baby."

Finally, I think some adult tried to arbitrate the situation. This ended badly because the judgment came down against me, since I was not seated in the chair and I was, as I said, somewhat less popular. Did I mention I still had the two-liter of soda in my hand? So I decided I had had enough of the nonsense, enough of the bullying, and I was ready to leave. I slammed the two liter down on the concrete patio. This turned out to be a lot of fun.

I was halfway off the compound before the shock of an exploding two-liter had worn off and the adults came to the realization that I was actually showing myself out. Then the chase was on.

As you can imagine, a seven or eight year old, even a mildly overweight child, is significantly faster than a middle aged man. Unfortunately, Vinnie lived on a small compound. There was a rock wall surrounding the yard. I was cut off from the main gate where the driveway was so I kept going all the way around the house. I made it as far as the creek, but the creek was more of a trench, and a bridge was certainly required to cross. But I didn't know where the bridge was.

I ran along the creek looking for the slate bridge. I had seen it several times before. But I soon realized the main gate was the only real way out. I made a run for it knowing there was some adult relation of Vinnie stationed there to prevent my escape.

I didn't make it.

Someone grabbed hold of me, though if I recall, I certainly made them pay for it with a few bite marks and deep scratches. Finally though, I was subdued and taken into the kitchen where I was detained until my parents arrived.

That was the last birthday party I was invited to.