When the H1N1 virus battles homecoming
It was 1979. Every Saturday morning, we'd meet in the lower level of Northwestern's Norris Center to play a rousing round of Dungeons and Dragons. One particular fall weekend, an NU sorority was hosting a fundraising event that included a kissing booth.
Being the immature geeks we all were (and I still am), we quickly discovered you could pay to have someone else kissed. And let's just say our game quickly descended into chaos as the kissing wars commenced.
We weren't nearly the only males willing to elicit a smooch from an attractive young lady for the mere price of a dollar, and the net result was, the following Tuesday, the university shut down due to illness. That marked the demise of kissing booths at NU which, especially when you consider our group, was probably a good idea anyway.
So when District 303 closed St. Charles East High School Oct. 21-23 due to 972 student absences on the 20th, before newspapers could even jump to the conclusion, the first word out of my mouth was "homecoming."
Yes! East's homecoming festivities took place the previous weekend, and what self-respecting sophomore would turn to his lovely lass and declare, "My dearest! Perhaps we should avoid slow dancing to Lady Antebellum's 'Need You Now' lest we exchange some insidious germs and miss that upcoming math exam."
The reality is most teenage boys would rather risk a case of the plague than pass up a sanctioned opportunity to get a little closer to their date.
I know what you're thinking: "But Jeff. If some of the kids were so sick, why didn't they just stay home?" I'll tell you why. No one stayed home because today's high school students have to take out subprime loans just to attend a dance.
A North senior told me homecoming tickets were 25 bucks a pop and, since women want equality in all things but killing bugs, lifting heavy objects and dating expenses, he bought his girlfriend dinner, too. This brought his evening outlay to $100.
Not that young women necessarily get off any easier. While walking my dog, I performed an exhaustive and thoroughly scientific survey of high school girls waiting for the school bus in my neighborhood. Here's what I found:
After some argument, the consensus on professional hair cost was somewhere between $35 and $75. Nails came in at $25. A new dress, which of course can never be worn to any future high school function, adds another $75 to $200.
Average it out and our basic feminine total comes to somewhere north of $200, which might explain why you all expect us to spring for dinner. Beauty doesn't come cheap.
Homecoming hasn't quite gone the ridiculous way of the prom, but one might also consider a limo, new shoes, rented gentleman's attire and flowers, because nothing is too over the top for the Tri-Cities.
So when we're talking a minimum of over 300 bucks for one teenage night out, it's no wonder some students grabbed the Tylenol and went to the dance with 104 temperatures.
On occasion, my wife will coyly flutter her eyelashes and even wear frilly things, but I can't remember the last time I spent that kind of cash on a night out with her.
Speaking of the plague, considering 1,400 students were dancing cheek to cheek in that small space, I'm shocked something far more virulent than the H1N1 flu wasn't visited upon western civilization as a result. Every errant sneeze had to amount to the equivalent of biological warfare.
Then, that following Monday, all those incubating and intermingled germs were summarily unleashed upon the school. By Tuesday, the students were dropping like flies. It wasn't just the swine flu. Preliminary Kane County Health Department estimates place the H1N1 virus as the culprit in only 10 percent of East absences.
But there might be hope our current flu epidemic has made us all a bit more cautious. District 303 communications director Jim Blaney told me, "One of the reasons we think the absence rate got so high is parents followed the advice of the KCHD and kept their sick kids home. Our parents did a great job following the H1N1 guidelines."
The bottom line here is there really is no one to blame. This was nothing more than the perfect confluence of blossoming seasonal ailments combined with a special event causing closer proximity. District 303 certainly did the right thing by sending everyone home for a few days.
At least they didn't have a kissing booth.
jeffwardsun@sbcglobal.net
