Talk About Bad Luck

Think about your life; now think about every bad thing that’s ever happened to you. Whether you believe in luck or not, we’ve all had some bad luck in our lives at some point. Whether that luck comes in the form of a ticket, car accident, or other freak incident, everyone has had at least one moment of bad luck.

For me, those moments are numerous. To the extent that at one point my friends began to call me “Bad Luck George,” after the popular Bad Luck Brian memes. When it comes to bad luck, I’ve basically seen it all: from getting ticketed the day before my birthday, three years in a row; one for speeding, one for using a cell ph0ne (my friend was calling to say happy birthday), and one for “playing your music too loud” as the officer put it. To add to this, last summer I was involved in two car accidents in one week, the breaks locked and I totaled both cars. Finally, about a month ago I had to have my gall bladder removed due to an inflammation in my gallbladder, something that typically happens to overweight women over 40.

You could say I’ve had some pretty bad luck in life, but my favorite “Bad Luck George” moment happened when I was in high school. It was my junior year and I had been in the Advancement Via Individual Determination (AVID) program, a program that helps students apply for and get into college. Every year juniors in the AVID program are given the opportunity to go on their junior trip, a weeklong trip with the class. Our trip took us to San Francisco for four nights.

For me, this trip was a big deal. My family travels a lot, but this was my first trip without my parents. I was ecstatic, going out to enjoy four nights with my high school friends.

Now, before I go into more detail, I would like to point out that I was a pretty good kid at the time. I had never really done anything “bad,” never smoked, drank, or even had a girl friend yet. I was your typical “good” kid in high school, not necessarily a nerd or geek, but I was really involved in school events and typically did relatively well in all my Advanced Placement and honors classes. I was on the wrestling team, in ASB, and various community service clubs. I was even taking a servant preparation class at my church. To add to this, my parents were your typical strict Egyptian parents, the ones that wouldn’t let you do anything wrong and almost never let you out of sight.

I saw this trip as my first chance at freedom. The Monday of the trip came, my mom dropped me off at school, and I rushed onto the bus to see my friends. We were all anxious to start the trip. Our first stop took us to San Luis Obispo for a night, followed by a quick visit to Cal Poly the next day.

As the second day progressed, and we continued our trip towards San Francisco, I began to hear murmurs of other students smoking marijuana the previous night. Being the “good” kid that I was I tried ignoring these rumors, but was curious who was involved. We settled into our rooms at the hotel in San Francisco and I began to discuss the matter with two of my good friends in the class, Anthony, who was also a “good” kid and a pastor’s child, Kenny, who was still “in the closet” at the time. We all agreed that we wouldn’t get involved, but that if we did we would all do it together.

The third day, Wednesday, came by and we heard that more students smoked the second night. By the last night, the peer pressure had begun to kick in. I even found out that a girl, Rachel, who I had a crush on at the time, was smoking with them. The other guys in the group had convinced me that there was nothing wrong with it and that there was “absolutely no way we would get caught.” Being your typical 15 year-old, trying to impress a girl, it wasn’t too difficult for them to convince me.

I told Rachel and her friends that I was going to smoke with them that night, .They tried to talk me out of it, but by then I had made my decision. I even talked my two other friends into doing trying it with me. After debating with the girls for a few minutes, they decided to head to their room to “freshen up.” As soon as they left, the other guys in the group took the opportunity to get us to smoke before we changed our minds. They took us to the balcony outside and we smoked a joint.

Almost immediately after finishing the joint, the girls were back. They could see in our eyes that we had smoked and were upset for about a second, before they decided they might as well make it worth while for us. Disregarding the rest of the group, the girls took me, Anthony and Kenny, into the restroom and sealed the bottom of the door with a towel. We sat in there, smoking out of an apple, for about two hours, until we finished all the marijuana.

To be completely honest, I don’t remember anything else from that night, besides the fact that I thought it was a great night. I even got to sit next to Rachel on the bus ride back home. It was a successful trip, or so I thought.

About a week after the trip, a security guard walked into one of my classes and asked for me by name. I had been called into one of the Assistant Principal’s offices. By then I had basically forgotten about the marijuana and couldn’t figure out why I was being called into the office. I tried asking the security guard, but he wouldn’t tell me. He walked me into the office where three APs were waiting.

They sat me down at this round table; and began to question me about the trip and the marijuana. It was my worst nightmare come to life. Of course, at first I denied any part of it, but as they continued to push and threaten police involvement, the young 15-year-old George began to see his future college career burning. I decided to confess to the act, but would not give them any names. They made me fill out a confession form then sent me to the in-school-detention area.

Upon my arrival I saw about half my class sitting there clueless as to how we all got caught. Out of a class of 30, about 20 of us were suspended for a week and required to take an after school drug counseling class for seven weeks. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, all I could think was, “How could I get caught the ONE time I do something like this? Talk about bad luck!”

Of course, getting suspended meant that my parents had to find out. The trip was right before my birthday and they had been planning on buying me a new car, my dream car at the time, a Mini Cooper. That obviously didn’t happen. I remember my mom crying, “What have we done to make to do something like this?” and my dad just giving me the silent treatment for a couple months. I could see the disappointment in their eyes every time I would attempt to hold a conversation with either of them.

It took some time, but they eventually got over it and we established some normalcy in the family. However, my issue dealt with the fact that we got caught. Like any other suspension, we came back a week later and began to speculate as to who ratted, and how the AP found out. As time passed with a lack of results, it became clear we wouldn’t figure it out, we simply had to accept the consequences for our actions and move on. Like any other bad situation, it was a learning experience and all it took was some bad decision-making and a little bad luck.