The Unbreakable Snapple Bottle

This story is one my friends and I recount many times in reference to both my reckless defensiveness, and the racism of the staff at our schools. It's rather short, but I find it funny.

When I was in Jr. High, I was kind of an ass. I had a rough time in elementary, and as a result was both conformist and defensive by the time this story starts. I had a lunch group I consistently hung out with, and we all hung out by a flagpole. This is a rough, black-and-white, stick figure, MS Paint version of what it would have looked like if we were several people short:

That is tiny. Ah, well, close enough. This flagpole was in the middle of a courtyard, where the majority of the school was eating lunch. Exhibit "O" (for only one):

 Anyway, I'd like to bring your attention to the pedestal.

Yup, still squint-worthy. You can barely even see the majesty coming off of it. Anyway, this pedestal is key. Also, make sure you remember the backpack on the very right. So, my friends and I were chatting, and I was being a mirror. At this point, the group consisted of Feetz, Amad, Vizzo, Joking, and I think Zak. Feetz is half-Mexican, and was outdoorsy at the time, giving him quite dark skin. As he described it at the time, "We're all white; [Amad] and I are just burnt." I may have adjusted for grammar. Actually, I think Ferret and Soldier were there. Doesn't really matter; they don't play a big role. Another relevant thing is that this was back in the day when Snapple bottles were glass. None of this "plastic" shit we have now. Kids today are weak.

Anyway, we were all chatting, and suddenly Amad (That's Ey-mad) sees that I am drinking a Snapple, and says, "Hey, did you know that Snapple bottles are unbreakable?" I, being defensive and having conformed to the level of impulsivity (not a word) and stupidity (in the nicest possible meaning) of the group, say, "They are SO breakable." However, mentally, I was questioning my assertion, as I had never actually seen one break. This skipped immediately to a desire for a validation of my intelligence an experiment. I finished my bottle, and walked over to the cement – oh yeah, it's cement – pedestal. My friends watched wordlessly as I tinked (also not a word) the glass bottle against the corner of the pedestal. Everyone seemed to come to the conclusion that they were indeed unbreakable, but I had one more trick up my sleeve: I stood up, and dropped the bottle. As the bottle fell through the air, time slowed. Mental exchange:

Me: Maybe this wasn't a good idea. 


Brain: Did you really have any doubt that these were indeed breakable? It was obvious [Amad] was joking.


Me: Um... Well...


Brain: What do you think will happen now? There are monitors everywhere, and students are watching. The shatter will also be less than stealthy.


Me: Well, maybe it won't break...


But break it did. Myth busted. Unfortunately, unlike Jamie and Adam, I did not make bank in the process of endangering myself for the sake of experimentation. I at least had the sense to jump back to avoid shattered glass shooting into my leg, but the embarrassment and fear cut deeper than the glass ever could. Panic set in: What was my plan now?

In retrospect, the yard monitor got there incredibly quickly. She was middle-aged (from the Middle Ages), and you could tell that she liked kids about as much as she liked shaving. She shouted something like, "Be careful, dammit! This is a serious safety hazard! You're looking at a detention!" I was about to apologize, until I realized she wasn't talking to me. She was talking to Feetz. Racism was my savior. I felt awkward.

 We eventually convinced her that yes, white people are also capable of wrongdoing and stupidity, and that Feetz was merely an entertained spectator of my misinformed display of defiance, at which she then said to me, "Oh. Well, be more careful," and walked away. We sat in stunned silence, until she was far enough away, and the entire group burst out laughing.

P.S. I may or may not continue with pictures. If I do, they will most likely be for their own sake, not for the sake of illustrating a story.