Caroline Connolly - After Party

 

 

As the daughter of two former prosecutors, I became accustomed at a very early age to losing in arguments. [audience laughter] This was not because I was unskilled at the art of debate, but because in my house, my parents were the judge, the jury and literally, two lawyers. So, quite frankly, the system was just corrupt. [audience laughter]

 

I can say this with confidence, because my parents convinced me and my sisters to follow every strict rule of our house by posing potentially traumatic consequences to us. For example, when I was 10 years old, I left our backyard gate open, and our Bichon Frisé, Koko, escaped. My mother, furious, stormed inside our house and announced to me and my sisters, “Koko is dead.” [audience laughter] “Just kidding,” she said, an hour later. But that could happen if you don't follow our rules. [audience laughter]

 

Now, however flawed this logic may seem, it pretty much presided over my entire life, right up until my junior prom after party in high school. My parent’s worldview was shaped by a Law & Order: SVU episode. Mine was formed by romantic comedies and teen dramas. And so, when I was told I could not attend my junior prom after party, because premarital sex and pregnancy were likely outcomes, according to my parents, I was devastated. This was a rite of passage that I felt every teenager deserved to experience. I was determined to experience it myself. And so, I crafted a plan to commit high treason in my household and sneak out. 

 

Now, I grew up in one of those old federal houses here in Massachusetts with creaky floorboards and were doorknobs just fall off at random. And so, it was like a Victorian trap, if you were a teenager trying to escape. [audience laughter] But on the night of my prom, I took every precaution. So, I unlocked our big old front door that no one ever used and left it slightly ajar, so I could get out without making any sound. I instructed my boyfriend to wait for me 100 yards down our street in his car with a change of clothing for me, like we were two teenagers committing a grand heist. When I got home from the dance that night, I was officiant. I said good night to my parents, I went straight up to my room and I waited for them to fall asleep. 

 

I sat on the floor for what felt like hours, plucking bobby pins from an updo until all I could hear was the hum of our air conditioner in their window. Then I made my exit. I crept down three flights of stairs, holding my breath the entire way until I reached that front door. I was so relieved to see it was still open. I silently slid out. It really wasn't until my feet hit the sidewalk that I could finally exhale, because I had made it. 

 

While I had envisioned my after-prom party would look something like a John Hughes movie where I was like beloved and super popular by the end, this was more like six sweaty teenagers drinking Natty light beer, someone smuggled in wondering who was going to make out with whom by the end of the night. It was super gross, but also perfect. When I woke up wedged between my two best girlfriends the next morning with my boyfriend sleeping by himself in a corner- [audience laughter] -I felt super proud of this rebellious teenage act I had just committed. And then, I looked at my cell phone. I realized I had five missed calls from my mother. It was 06:00 AM. So, she knew I was not home, and I knew I had been caught. As I sat there envisioning all of the punishments, I knew she was going to dole out. I honestly wished I had been pregnant, because I thought maybe she wouldn't kill me then. [audience laughter]

 

I was contemplating what a summer would feel like grounded at my house when I had another thought. That was maybe I wasn't caught yet. Maybe I could still pull this thing off. So, I woke up my boyfriend, and we jumped in his car and I ordered him to drive to our local Kmart, which was about to open. I asked him to go inside and buy running sneakers, running shorts and a T-shirt. He looked totally perplexed as I threw all of this on in the backseat of his car and then doused myself in water, because- [audience laughter]  -my plan was to just pretend that I had been out for his 06:00 AM jog after prom. It is worth noting that this guy never asked me to another prom again in high school. [audience laughter]

 

But he dropped me off 100 yards down from our house on our street. I proceeded to run up it. I walked through the door, panting as a runner would. My mother was standing right there waiting for me and glaring at me. She said so calmly and coldly, “I'll never forget it,” like a serial killer, and “Where have you been?” It still makes me sick. [audience laughter] And I was like, “I was running, obviously. “I could see by the look on her face she was not buying the story. But then I could also see she was taking in all of the physical evidence in front of her that supported what I was saying. [audience laughter] Because I was wearing sneakers, I was wearing shorts and I did look exhausted from something. [audience laughter] And so, she peppered me with questions. “When did you leave? Where did you go? How far did you run? What was your pace?” [audience laughter] And I somehow flawlessly answered all of them. She was stunned, because she had no other recourse than to accept this ridiculous explanation. [audience laughter] And she did. I totally got away with it. [audience laughter]

 

I will admit, all these years later, the thought of spending an entire night out and drinking Natty light beer is so wholly unappealing to the independent adult I've now become. [audience laughter] But what does still excite me are those moments of independence from teen years today and the feeling I still get when I'm bold enough and creative enough to go after them. Thanks.