I arrived in California about a week before school started and lived in an apartment with my dad and later my mom, just a bout a block from Ygnacio Valley High School until we bought our latest house. I went to their watered down version of band camp, and became quite the center of attention.
I was the only senior who was playing trumpet. I knew the occasional drum playing football player from junior high (Erics and Eriks stick together). I had known the future homecoming queen since she was seven-years-old, and was therefore the envy of most of the guys in the band when she gave me a smothering hug the first day of school.
And there turned out to be an informal competition between two of the flag girls over me. Of course I didn't learn about the competition for a few months. Suffice to say my first real kiss was on October 10, 1986 at approximately 5:35 PM. I know this because it was received when I was dropping my new girlfriend off at her house, and it was about 20 minutes from her home in Lafayette to mine in Concord where I had to be hope by 6:00 for dinner.
I still don't remember anything about the drive home.
Oh and somewhere during this year, I became close friends with a redheaded girl who had just moved down from Oregon for her senior year as well.
The rest of the year was wonderful. Except for the PE. California required three years of PE;, however, because the PE in Maryland had only been thee days a week, they didn't count it as a full year's worth. But did I then only have to take one semester of PE?
Don't be stupid.
I also took Calculus, Economics/Government, English, Jazz Band, and Symphonic Wind Ensemble.
The first semester, I also took a TurboPascal programming class at Diablo Valley College. The second semester, I got my first job, and worked at Kentucky Fried Chicken in Pleasant Hill. This store would burn down about twenty years alter, sit vacant for several months, and finally be reborn as a KFC/A&W.
Also, I was in the Diablo Youth Symphony Orchestra. And as well as giving local concerts, for the two weeks leading up to my eighteenth birthday, we went to Europe. And halfway through that trip, I jumped down some stairs, and tore a ligament in my left ankle.
I spent the rest of the trip pretty dopes up, but can say that I did see and tour Neuschwanstein Castle on crutches.