Senioritis hadn't quite settled in, but us freshly minted high school seniors couldn't wait to be wild and free while we played the college-application waiting game.
Fall Fridays had a Friday Night Lights quality to them, except we were in Jon Bon Jovi's stomping grounds in Jersey (much smaller stakes than Texas).
Before we rushed the stands to watch our classmates dash across the turf, we'd race over to a nondescript park and gather round for Frisbee Fridays. This was ultimate frisbee, except with a ragtag group of misfit AP-students recklessly running around  spotty grass and ungracefully hurling our bodies at a flying disc.
Some of us were half decent, but many were there just to goof around, kill time, and shoot the sh*t. All we hoped was to bottle up the moment and keep it in there as long as we could before life intervened. Like something out of a 90's teen movie, it was everything to us, a dozen or so misfit AP-students, and no one else.
For now, I some work to do on my hammer toss.
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