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blog: Hair Dos, Beach Balls, and Prom ’08

Maria Scully
Vail CO, Colorado
Special to the DailyMaria Scully is a junior at Battle Mountain High School. She is an intern at the Vail Daily.
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Prom came quickly this year.

The day I got back from spring break in New York I learned that prom was only six days away. My friends and I had nothing planned: no dresses or hairstyle ideas, no place to get ready, no limo, no dinner reservations, and no idea where to find all the money. With only 25 minutes for lunch, we would all meet together and discuss what

needed to be done. However, no one seemed to see eye to eye.

“Let’s eat somewhere in Edwards.”

“Yuck no way!”

“Lets go to Avon.”

“No, no not fancy enough.”

“Let’s go somewhere in Vail!”

“And pay a fortune for a tiny meal!?”

Limos were overwhelmingly expensive and, for juniors, prom itself cost $50 per person to get in. It seemed as if prom became the everyone’s top priority, as teens begged their parents for more and more cash, and girls ditched school in order to find the perfect gown.

And on top of it all, a few of us were required to participate in a track meet the day of prom, leaving us with no time to spend beautifying. It was a complete muddle and we were all up to our ears in stress, leaving us with only two more days to piece together our prom night.

Finally, after begging my mother and convincing my boyfriend to empty all the money in their pockets, the decision was made that we would have dinner at Ti Amo and be escorted through the night in a luxury van. Yes, a van. I was hoping for some gorgeous limo or Hummer, considering the expense, but we got a van. However, the plan was set in stone and there were to be no further changes. I prayed that all this hassle and money-burning would be worth it.

The morning of prom arrived. I pulled on my tight, unflattering track outfit, half asleep, at six in the morning. It was a gloomy, freezing day outside at the track and I needed to focus on my warm ups and events, but all I could think about was how much time I needed to get ready for the night.

The day moved slowly, as we huddled together for warmth before sprinting for our lives or jumping into huge sand pits. Frantically, as soon as my events ended, I raced home and gathered all of my things for the night.

I arrived at my friend’s house in Wildridge and got right to business. With hair spray replacing oxygen, make-up spilled along the counter, blow dryers, curlers, and half-naked, scrambling girls, I managed to find own space and pull my hair into two French braids and curl the ends.

Sooner than I expected, the clock turned six, and I hadn’t even applied make-up or

finished my hair. I was the last girl to be ready, rushing to pin my thick hair into something that looked half decent. Downstairs the parents were screaming “The driver is here!”, “We need to take pictures!” and “You’ll be late for your dinner reservation!” That’s when I obtained super speedy powers and applied my make-up and slipped into my movie star satin red gown in under 10 minutes.

I sprinted down the stairs, jumped into formation, and posed for the pictures.

All 14 of us looked stunning, even the boys in their slick dark tuxes with tennis shoes. We all filed into the van and arrived only five minutes late to dinner. As expensive as the bill was, the meals we all had were delicious.

Outside it began to dump with snow and the girls whimpered with fear that their hairdos would disintegrate. Pulling up our gowns, and struggling to run in strappy heels, we waddled our way through the storm into the van. It was around 8 p.m., (the beginning of the dance), but we all decided that it would be much cooler to show up fashionably late.

I could tell the driver grew irritated with us when we asked her to drive us to Wal-Mart and City Market. Why would a group of elegantly dressed teens who look ready for the red carpet want to go to Wal-Mart instead of the gala, you may ask? To ride on the bikes, play with the beach balls, and buy random, useless things, of course.

It’s something that only my friends and I could understand.

Inside, I grabbed the beach ball first and started a small game of volleyball, while the others in our group squeezed themselves into tiny bikes and rolled around the isles. A few of us girls found the plungers and suctioned them to the floor, letting the fabulous popping noise resonate as we pulled them upwards.

We were stared at from everyone in the store, as if the circus had arrived in Avon. Consequently, an employee noticed our disturbance and we promptly got ourselves kicked out of the stores.

Eventually, we ran out of stupid things to do and resigned ourselves to appear at the dance. The pavilion looked vibrant and lively in all the floral decorations, flashing disco lights, and a chocolate fountain poured in the corner. “Masquerade” was the theme and many walked around showing off their own decorated masks they had created. Girls stood in clumps complimenting each others dresses and the boys filled the tables too afraid to show off their dance moves.

The fountain was my first stop, and my boyfriend and I ate too many chocolate covered cream puffs for our dancing abilities to handle. We let our stomachs digest and made our way to the dance floor.

A tight group formed close to the DJ and we danced until the room overheated. “Get Low” came on and everyone joined in to sing along.

When the techno songs began to play, everyone held on to each other and jumped like popcorn, which is quite a feat in prom attire. Cheesy slow songs eased the chaos and couples began to pair off. It was your typical high school dance; however the best part of it was that almost no underclassmen were there ” just kidding.

Actually the best part was that everyone took the time to make the night special; one filled with friendship and memories.

It neared midnight and we were all exhausted from dancing. We said our goodbyes, and climbed into the van, leading us to wherever the rest of the snowy night would take us.

Maria Scully is a junior at Battle Mountain High School. She is an intern at the Vail Daily.


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