True Confessions From My Personal "Archives of Yesteryear" (The Rangers)
If a teenager decides to delve into the dubious territory of "closet uncoolness", you better believe they need to keep these items of ridicule under a strict lock and key. Woe betide any one of them who forgets this imperative security-based absolute must. For it may bring about negative change in the dynamic of the role they play within their peer's small circle... Possibly with permanency.
It was a typical evening in my adolescent life with the usual four friends I hung out with, chilling on the couch. The now classic Super Nintendo was the gaming machine of choice back then and married up with Super Bomberman, it was pure pixelated heaven. So, seeing as we were getting bored and wanted in on some of that action, I was about to fire up the mini white beast! But before that, the 4-way joypad adaptor for my two extra players. And also a must have if you wanted to earn yourself some serious street cred.
Seeing as long time school chum, Asif, was nearest to the chest of drawers on his left, I called out for assistance. "Man, do me a favour and get the adaptor, yeah?" With a moan we all were thoroughly used to by now, he pushed himself off the couch and lumbered over to the four stacked set of white drawers. He opened it and froze in an instant. I just caught sight of this odd spectacle a few seconds later. "Man, you OK? What's up with you?". Like a 20-tonne semi, it hit me! The goddamn Power Rangers CD! But it was already too late. Asif's arm was already outstretched into the inner compartment on the left and in the process of pulling it out. I'm telling you, I felt real fear. Like something akin to being surrounded by a gang of menacing hoodlums about to rob you. Completely irrational, I know. But the only truth I knew at the time. The next moment, he held it out so it was clearly visible to my other two chums. Shit had most definitely hit the fan and there was nowhere to run...
Now, even though I was a pass-master in creating all sorts of predicaments for me to get into, I must admit to also having a certain aptitude in thinking fast whenever faced with these terrifying situations. And, within what must have been several nano-seconds of thought processing, only one option seemed as adequate a response as any, in order to mitigate any damage done.
"Yeah. It's the Power Rangers. And what?" I exclaimed with defiance. I could tell the friend closest to me at the time, Martin, was on the brink of bursting out with laughter. I glared at him with a stern scowl. "I listen to Power Rangers. I like the soundtrack. OK? You got a problem with that?" Almost immediately, his demeanour fell into the same uncomfortable awkward silence of a moment ago.
"But... It's the... The Power Rangers". Muttered Asif, as if to double check the reality of what he'd just seen and heard. You could cut the tension with a knife. But I firmly held my ground. "I know what it is. I bought the damn thing. But instead of wasting time talking about it, can you just grab the 4-way adaptor so I can get this damn game started?"
Just as quickly as he had plucked the CD from it's concealed home, did he replace it once more. The adaptor came out next and the drawer shut. Though there was still that dull, stale atmosphere in the air as if some great tragic revelation had dawned on them all. Well, in fact, it had. But stick to my guns I did, hoping to let enough time pass so as to treat the unwelcome event as nothing more than a passing hallucination. He chucked the adaptor over, at which point I plugged it in, switched on the machine and started playing. I swear, ten minutes in, all seemed forgotten. I mean, almost like it had never happened in the first place. Crazy, but true. The sacrilege of me listening to something as unimaginable as the Power Rangers was enough to garner you a laughing stock and source of continued ridicule, for years to come. But, strange as it sounds, that was the end of it. The horrifying discovery was never spoken about, brought up again within our extended circles (Well, to my knowledge anyways) or even vaguely referred to in any context whatsoever. Hell, I had managed to somehow get away with it.
I learned an important lesson that day. And one I'll never forget. The lyrics to the smash hit It wasn't me by Shaggy rang "oh-so-true". Pretend like it's not happening, even if it actually "is" right there and then, and by some miraculous sliver of near-supernatural luck, you may just end up getting away with it. Such is the mindset of the primitive teen.
