Aselin

I've recently listened to a series of people describe things they'll "never survive". A bad meal at a restaurant, not getting invited somewhere, having to give a public talk. It made me remember this memorable event...


I was hazed pretty badly starting in Junior High, moving on up through high school. I won’t chronicle all of it here, but one experience in particular was pretty bad. Who knows what makes someone a target, but I had a huge bulls-eye on my back.

One would think joining the Cross country team was pretty innocuous. Most people who joined our team are a bit nerdy, socially challenged and weird. It takes a certain personality to say, “Hey, after a long day at school, I’d like to go run 15 miles in the sweltering heat.”

Cross country is not a social sport. It’s very hard to carry on a bonding conversation while trying not to barf up a lung. At a meet, you don’t find out how your team fared until all the points are added up, and often we would be told the results the next day so it wasn’t like there were moments of rapturous cheering as we crushed the competition. But we were really good, and often did crush the competition.

One strike I had against me, joining the team as a freshman, was I was fast enough that I had to train with the boys. From a coach’s perspective this was a good thing. As a social retard, this just made me more of an outcast with the girls.

After a mile warm-up on the track we’d be sent off on various workouts, broken up according to ability. The town I grew up in is a picturesque collection of mountains, tree lined streets and rural history.


Often, out on these runs, we wouldn’t see anyone else. Running through a tree canopied section of town called the Arbolada, the boys cut through the town cemetery.

Being a huge fan of the shortcut, I followed, only to quickly notice the cemetery was not deserted. Hiding behind the tilted headstones and tall grass was a pack of the older girls. I came to a wary stop as one girl grabbed my hand and announced they were excited I was on the team. Uh oh. And, as an official member of the team I needed to be initiated. I felt queasier than I usually did on my daily run.

Like possessed ants they descended on me and stripped me of all of my clothes. Thankfully they left my shoes on as they ran away laughing. I crawled behind a headstone, and while I was not physically harmed, I was so emotionally traumatized I had to remind myself to breathe.

There in an awkward squat, because no one wants to sit bare-butted on a headstone from the 1800’s; the imprint would not be flattering, And really, who knows what ancient lichen would do to my baby-soft skin? I racked my brain for a plan. I didn’t know anyone who lived close by, and frankly, if I did, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t go ringing their doorbell naked. That sort of idea would work better with strangers. "Hi Mrs.Lake, um, can I use your phone?" "Oh, Mr. Lake and your parents are both home? Yes, I would like a towel, thank you." Then later that evening, "Honey, your little friend Aselin came over today..." Yeah, nix that plan.

After about an hour I decided I had to try and get back to the locker room. School was only about a half a mile away, and it was getting dark so the shadows were in my favor.

Peering out from behind a low rock wall and the cemetery sign I made sure no cars were coming. Planning my route down the road, I scampered from bush, to tree without incident. About a third of the way back to school I was able to harvest two large dry palm bush fronds. Thank heaven it was a bush and not a tree, because at that point I think I would have tried to climb the tree, someone would have seen me, and reported crazy naked girl in running shoes climbing the palm tree.

Like a bad Benny Hill skit, I scampered the rest of the way to school holding a frond in front and in back. Traffic was light, but unfortunately not non-existent. I received a few honks and waves, but being preoccupied, I was unfriendly and didn’t wave back. This may be why I was never voted Homecoming Queen.

Somehow, I had waited long enough that the rest of my team, and thankfully the football team, had all gone home. I made it to the refuge of the locker room ditching my fronds in an undersized trash can. My hands were trembling so badly that it took a number of tries to open my lock.

After dressing and strapping on my backpack I proceeded to walk home. I had a long time to think about what had happened. One of the great life truisms, is that good lessons often come out of bad experiences.

After this experience I repeatedly expressed a newfound appreciation for my clothing, despite how out of style I had previously perceived them. I think it was this point when at my very core I decided that clothes are less important than covering.

I also gained a profound distrust for the draw to belong. Being initiated wasn’t so fun. I learned that the people who create a sense of belonging for me are those I can trust on a deep level. They don’t use me or my weaknesses for entertainment, and they have a loyalty found in true friendship.

Last, I learned that one does, in actuality, survive these disastrous kinds of things. The next day, despite the prodding, I refused to disclose much information. I thanked my teammates for leaving me my shoes, and confirmed I got back to school in one piece, but that was it. It was very unsatisfying for the perpetrators.

Interestingly enough, the whole thing did seem to initiate me. I became much more comfortable in my own skin and felt much less intimidated by the jerks I had previously held in high esteem.