Homecoming is finally over. And just in time.

The first homecoming game I ever went to was during my freshman year at good old Summit High. I remember watching the court ceremony take place. Jokingly I leaned over to my date (Yes. She was real.) and told her I thought being on court would be fun.

This year, being on the ballot for homecoming court required two nominations from different classes. During my English period, my name was written on the board alongside a group of other popular kids. We voted, and mine was one of the final three. I just needed one more nomination from another class.

Voting commenced the following week. Surprisingly, my name was on the ballot. I don’t know who suggested my name in the other class, but I was flattered someone remembered me. (And no, I didn’t vote for myself.)

While pretending to work in Newspaper on a Friday, Mr. Mallett called me over to his office and informed me that Mrs. Schimming requested my presence.

That’s when I found out.

I won’t lie; I was very excited to be nominated for Homecoming King. It was nice to be recognized by my senior class as a person worth mentioning.

While waiting to get my picture taken for the bulletin to be purchased during the game, I suddenly became aware of what was happening. I had to do stuff! I expressed my regret to Jasmine who was taking my picture. She told me this was an honor and worse things could happen.

They did.

Apparently I had to participate in the pep rally that day. I haven’t been to a pep rally since my freshman year. Maybe one during my sophomore year. It could not get any worse.

It did.

While walking down the hall to the varsity gym, my small party of homecoming nominees and I intercepted oncoming traffic. The halls were crowded with kids trying to get to the pep rally. That’s when I brushed up against king nominee Jellybean. The contact knocked my glasses off my face and broke them. (Fortunately the tape on the back of my broken phone was able to hold them together.) It couldn’t get worse.

It did.

While taping them together, I bumped into another football player. This time my I.D. ripped off my lanyard.

At least it was Friday. I had fun. People cheered. The worst was over. So I thought.

Participation in a mandatory homecoming court practice was required the following week. I questioned if walking in the rain to the band practice field was worth this.

That’s when I got stopped by Smith Security. I’ve never had a real beef with the guy, until that day. After explaining my purpose for being outside, the man looked me up and down with a grin and said, “You? Really? Homecoming King?”

What’s wrong with me? Don’t I look like a potential king? (Honestly, I would have done the same.)

He apologized and wished me good luck. Thanks Smith. I’d need that luck to combat all the coincidental bad things that were happening to me.

Waiting 15 minutes in the rain by myself was suspicious. I decided I should pay a visit to Mrs. Schimming. That’s when I found out the practice was rescheduled to Thursday.

It’s understandable as to why I was so nervous on homecoming. Before walking on the field, I checked one last time for a potentially embarrassing moment. My zipper was down. Thanks for the luck Smith.

Walking on the field was an honor. I’m grateful for the support of my friends and family. Although the man who announced my entrance stuttered the entire time and pronounced Mallett incorrectly, I was very happy.

Good thing I didn’t make king. Who knows what bad things could have happened.