I have been told that everyone has their one moment of fame, mine came to me in 9th grade, a time when the teenage mind is at its most impressionable, most confused, most invincible state. A time when popularity is as predictable as a teens mood.
A little background: I went to school, in at the time, was the biggest Jr. high in the state. I was a nobody. I was a little shy and very awkward: messy hair, braces, glasses and chubby. I just went through my routine of the school day from one class to the next. It was a good day if I talked to anyone, and I did not get teased. By talking to anyone I mean boys, talking to girls was out of the question.
It was metal shop class, and we were creating rings. Of course the teacher went over safety rules first, with such basics as the machinery and the tools, and, of course, don't put your ring on until it is finished. A funny thing about the teenage brain is its idea that the teenage body is invincible and that not all rules apply to them. So due to this notion planted in my brain of invincibility and the teenage need to belong, when a girl began talking to me I became a little dumber. After I got over the fact that a girl was talking to me, I began to understand what she was trying to tell me. She suggested that I try the ring on as she slid her own ring on and off her finger to prove the absurdness of the safety rule, of course, I did not hesitate to try my own ring on. She said it looked nice, I beamed. Maybe it was the beaming that got me in trouble, extra blood going to my finger, or maybe my knuckles are big and odd shaped and a little awkward like the rest of me, or maybe it was just my time in history to become famous, but for what ever reason the ring stuck. My first move was to panic and pull harder, of course, that made it worse. Then the girl grabbed my hand, increasing blood flow to my finger, and began to pull, making it much worse. We twisted it, shock it,and pulled and pulled at it. We ran to the sink and put soap and water on it; it did not work. At this point from all the pulling of the unfinished metal of the ring; it began to cut through my flesh and bleed. This caused my new friend to panic, and she did something I will never understand, but I am sure it has something to do with that unreliable teenage brain. She ran to tell the teacher what had happened. I was dumbfounded. He examined my finger like a doctor, saying things like hmmmm and ahhhhh, until he suggested I lay under the table with my finger in a vise as he cut the ring off. So I laid under the table, face up as he sawed the ring ; the vise squeezing my finger. All I could see was the bottom of the table and wads of pink gum stuck to the underside. The room was completely silent except of the grinding of the saw. The teacher went slow either to be careful not to cut me or to relish the moment. When he finally cut through the ring and unwound the vise I slowly slid the ring off my finger before standing up from under the table. As I slid from under the table I began to hear the murmurings and giggles of classmates. But as I stood up I could see it was not just my classmates; it was the entire school and I was famous. All eyes where on me for one instant, wide eyes and open mouths that spelled the letter O. An applause rose, cheers could be heard throughout the room and down the hallways and screams of, "he got it off," made it through the Jr. high grapevine like a a wildfire. All to fast, the girl slid into the crowd and the teacher sent everyone to their next class. I got pats on the back and, "way to go" from complete strangers. For the rest of that day I was thy most popular kid in school. My moment of fame.