Archive for the ‘Hammond High School’ Category


Ah, the summer of 1989. A lot of good times & memories (of what I can remember anyway) were made in that year.

We were a little older, a lot crazier, unfortunately, none the wiser.
We made it through the summer of 1989, however, with nothing to show for it. All except for a fridge half-full of beer and a small canon.

That’s right. We got ourselves a canon,
but that’s a totally different story.

The fact that there was absolutely NO SUPERVISION is what made all this possible.

Summer of 1989

820 Eaton Street

Hammond, Indiana

I thought I was living the dream. Probably the dream of every 18-year-old male across the country. Well, at least maybe among my fellow “Region Rats” anyway. I guess that’s why we pretty much hung out at my house all the time. The lack of supervision made it the perfect environment for all the “Shit Starting & Shenanigans” we got ourselves into.

We had a large assortment of beer thanks to the Great Beer Heists of '89

We had a large assortment of beer thanks to the Great Beer Heists of ’89

It usually started with a garage/back alley BBQ, but things always got carried away and into the basement as the evening rolled in. By this time, most of us were already half-lit. There was always plenty of beer (free of charge). Of course, this was before the “major bust” of The Great Beer Heists of ’89.
In fact, the warm keg of Guinness spent a good portion of the summer of 1989 in my basement before it was finally moved to a new [undisclosed] location for further study & observation. A few of us would always take a crack at trying to get the beer out, but it always ended up in failure. If we only had that specific tap for that Guinness keg maybe a few us would think differently about Guinness beer.

Then again, maybe not.

Thanks to the “Boys of Wildwood” we finally did get into that keg of Guinness.

 The “48 Club”

Let’s get to the point of the story.

We came up with a competition that if completed you were made a “48 Club” member. It was called the “48 Club” and to become a member you had to drink 48 beers within 48 hours.
Here are the rules:

  1.  You can NOT leave the vicinity.
  2.  You can eat, sleep and throw-up all you want.
  3.  48 beers must be consumed before the 48th hour in order to become a member.

Flaming Shots of Everclear
(an important part of the story)

Alcohol is flammable. The purer the alcohol in the liquor, the greater chance of it igniting.
It’s very flammable. Extremely flammable.

We found out that a particular brand of alcohol (liquor?) would actually ignite – Everclear!
I’m not sure if Everclear was intended to be sipped straight from the bottle, but we did it anyway.
It was horrible.
So, to liven the party, we lit a shot glass full of Everclear on fire and drank it that way.
Makes sense…right?

Yeah, right.
Now it doesn’t only taste like shit, but it’s dangerous too.

Not sure where the idea of throwing flaming shots down your throat came from, but after a few hits & misses , some of us became rather good at it. Almost expert even. May sound like a useless skill but I have to admit, it is rather interesting to witness. If you ever get a chance to witness a drunk throwing fire towards their face, take it.

48 Beers in 48 Hours

48 Beers in 48 Hours

Sometimes, things could go terribly wrong.
Like someone lighting their face on fire.

Or, things could go hysterically funny.
Like someone lighting their face on fire.

Note: On all Flaming Shots you are suppose to extinguish the flame before you drink it.
Nobody told us about that part.

(Back to the “48 Club”)
Let the Competition Begin!

By the fourth hour of the very first 48 Club Competition, there were only 6 or 7 serious (semiconscious) applicants still in the competition out of a basement full of juvenile delinquents.

You remember Cousin Mike?
He was with me during the “Jumping & Riding Trains” incident.

He was one of them.

The McDonald Brothers.
They were with me during one of the Great Beer Heists of ’89.

They were both hanging in there also.

So, there was Cousin Mike, the two McDonald Brothers, myself and a few others.
One of those still standing was Benjie Garrison.

Benjie Garrison is an awesome bowler and already a well-known competitor among his peers and other young professional bowlers. He is very, very good. I met Benjie in high school through a few of my friends. And like myself, he lived with just his father. I remember spending many days ditching school at his house when mine was “unavailable”. We dominated Super Mario Bros. on Nintendo.

Region Rats - photo by Open Clips

Region Rats – illustration by Open Clips

My house, however, was the hub. It was a bit bigger, plus it had a basement that was equipped with a bar. The bar was nothing fancy but it served its purpose. Built in the 60’s by my grandfather, this bar has seen its fair share of shit starting & shenanigans…

…and today was no different.

Although the rules simply state that nobody may leave the vicinity of the competition, Benjie and the younger McDonald  got hungry. Since there wasn’t any food in the house and nobody delivered this late, we decided to make an exception. There was a tiny 24-hour Mexican restaurant just a block away. The infamous LAS BRISAS Mexican Restaurant was a Region Rat hot-spot.
Sorta.

Being that Las Brisas was open 24-hours a day, it too, has also seen its fair share of shit starting & shenanigans. Serving not just the sober during the day, but also the drunks, addicts and idiots during the night. If you ever wanted to test your self defense skills, visit Las Brisas anytime after 1 am and wait. Even though the Hammond Police Department was exactly kiddie-corner from Las Brisas, some knuckleheads didn’t care. Something’s going to happen…

…and tonight was no different.

Benjie and the younger McDonald brother left the house together. It’s best to go in pairs. Besides, Cousin Mike was in no condition to go anywhere. He was worse off than the rest of us. And since this was my house and he was my cousin, I was the one to look after him.

So off they went.

Las Brisas wasn’t the safest restaurant in the Region, nor was it the cleanest, but it sure had GREAT tacos! photo by KAM MISTRY

When they walked into Las Brisas they could already tell that something was not right. There were three employees, one up front, one in the back and another sitting in a booth next to the register. All three of them had their eye on a couple (guy & girl) that were waiting for their order. They looked as if they were pissed off at one another.

The employee that was up front walked to the register and asked Benjie if they were ready to order. Just when Benjie was about to speak, a loud “Fuck you!” was shouted from the girl.

Benjie quickly turned and looked at the couple, “Wow. What was that?” Benjie jokingly snickered.

The guy looked up at Benjie for a moment and then went back silently speaking to the girl looking rather irritated

“What the fuck?” the younger McDonald said to Benjie.

“I don’t know. Whatever.” Benjie said back and then placed their order.

You were to pay right after you order at Las Brisas. This prevented ‘Dine & Dash’. When the employee gave Benjie his change she quickly went to finish up the couples order and gave it to them. The couple immediately left.

Not even a minute after the couple left, Benjie heard a ruckus right outside the restaurant’s front door. Benjie and the younger McDonald went to investigate and found the guy beating the shit out of the girl. Both of them went to grab the guy and pulled him off her.

Suddenly, Benjie felt a thud on the back of his head. When he turned around he saw the younger McDonald throwing the girl a pretty good distance away. When he did, a loud clank was heard. The girl dropped a tire iron in the process of being thrown. After the younger McDonald threw the girl down he jumped on the guy and started beating the shit out of him.

Yes. This happened.

The guy was totally unconscious, but the younger McDonald kept beating away. The girl stood up and decided not to intervene. I guess she knew that it didn’t matter she was a female. It wasn’t until Benjie, when he got his bearings, that stopped the younger McDonald from beating the guy any further. They both went back inside the restaurant. The girl just stood there and continued to scream at the both of them.

The Hammond Police showed up just when they sat down to eat their tacos. It looked as though the girl was trying to explain to the police why her boyfriend was laying unconscious in a Las Brisas parking lot. She was looking through the restaurants glass, pointing to the both of them telling the police who they should be arresting. But the police never came in the restaurant and asked any questions. It seems that they just hauled the couple away to jail.

End of that story.

Meanwhile…

Back at the house, none of us knew what was going on with Benjie and the younger McDonald. This was, of course, before the readily available cell phone.

This was also when we started doing “Flaming shots of Everclear”.

Turning up the heat!
alcohol-408446_1280

Benjie and the younger McDonald finally made it back from Las Brisas.

“We got into a fight,” Benjie announced as soon as he walked down the basement stairs. “Man, we kicked the shit out of some guy and his girlfriend.”

The younger McDonald went ahead and tried to explain what happened, but with the tape deck blaring “Sweet Child of Mine” by Guns’n Roses made it a little difficult.

Before any of us could ask Benjie any questions, he was already at the end of the bar with his taco take-out. He sat with his back to us and that’s when I noticed the blood stain down Benjie’s back.

“Dude, you’re bleeding!” I shouted.

The younger McDonald went to check out Benjie’s head.

“That chic busted your head open.”

We all checked out his wound. Yep, there was a gash alright. She bashed him good.

Benjie took his last bite and muffled with a mouth full, “That bitch.” He grabbed a napkin and went upstairs to clean himself up in the bathroom.

Meanwhile…we showed the younger McDonald what we were up to since they left. Rash Key, Jay Gee along with the older McDonald brother with myself included poured ourselves a half-shot of Everclear. Each of us then lit the Everclear in the shot glass on fire.

“What the…?” the younger McDonald said looking wide eyed. “What are you guys going to do now?”

Before he realized, all four of us at the same time, threw the flaming shot down our own throat.

“HOLY SHIT! That’s fucking crazy!”

“Oh yeah?” a voice said coming from the other side of the basement. It was coming from Cousin Mike as he stumbled toward the bar. “I’ll show ya how to do it.”

Cousin Mike grabbed the bottle of Everclear and an empty shot glass. He carelessly poured himself a FULL shot spilling alcohol all over his hand as well as the bar.

“This is how you do it.”

Before any of us knew what was going on, Cousin Mike lit his shot glass on fire.

And his hand.

And the bar.

But that didn’t stop him.
Uh-uh.

Cousin Mike went ahead and was going to finish what he started. He tried to throw that flaming shot down his throat. But it was more like him throwing a fireball at his entire face than down his throat.
Oh yes. He threw fire at his own face.

So, Cousin Mike lit his hand and face on fire along with the top of the bar. I freaked out and everybody started yelling. I just started whacking Cousin Mike in the face trying to put the fire out. He gripped onto the bar with both hands (one of them on fire) and let me slap the shit out of him. The idea soon spread because everybody stopped screaming and started slapping Cousin Mike in the face.

And I do mean everybody. Like four pairs of hands.
I then threw a towel over his burning hand and put out the bar.

After a few quick moments of trying to extinguish Cousin Mikes face the fire eventually went out.
But wait a minute.

Benjie wanted some of that.

From nowhere Benjie flew into the scene. Throwing himself over the bar and with a stretch – SLAP!
He slapped Cousin Mike the hardest of everybody…and the fire was already out.
What the…?

But hold on.
This night doesn’t stop there.

Check back and find out what happens later when we come across vomit, a beer-bong & $100.

There’s Something in the Backyard

And You’re NOT Going to Believe It

Not a typical night.
Not a typical night at all.

I know this going to sound crazy, but I’m going to tell you anyway.

In the summer of ’89 I had to attend summer school in order to receive my diploma. I was short one English credit.

No big deal, I lived 500′ away from Hammond High’s main entrance. I could wake up 10 minutes before school started and still make it on time.
Which I’ve actually done.

The rules on attendance were very strict. You were not allowed to miss more than two (2) days. If you missed three (3) or more days, you were disqualified from receiving any credit for that class. NO EXCEPTIONS!

Summer Flu

I don’t sick often, but when I do…look out. I feel I’m on the edge of death when I get sick, especially with the flu – but in the summer? Who in the hell gets sick in the summer?

Oh, wait…I do now.

I used to never get sick – especially in the summer.
But of course, when I have to attend summer school, I get sick with a summer flu.
The summer flu…? Am I kidding?sick-29351_1280

I am not.

Thankfully, it started on a Friday night. Because when I awoke Saturday morning I thought I got hit by a truck. This wasn’t a hangover either (even if it was during the BEER HEISTS era)…it was death creeping up on me. I thought I might have had a touch of the stomach flu as well, because when I unloaded – man, I unloaded.

I was losing it out of both ends.
And at the same time too!
Trust me, it’s a disgustingly neat trick.

That Saturday Night

I shouldn’t have drank as much as I did the night before. All day Saturday I felt horrible. I couldn’t keep anything down. I was constantly on the toilet. I was freezing, but yet I was sweating as if I was burning up.
I was alone and I thought that I just entered the beginning stages of death.

I needed medication; some sort of medical attention, but I was clueless. I didn’t know what to do. By late evening, I realized that my dad wasn’t coming home and so I managed to gather enough sense to get off the living room floor and check the medicine cabinet.
But soon realized that we haven’t had anything in the medicine cabinet for quite some time.

I hunted through the kitchen cabinets, looking for anything that could ease my stomach and found nothing. I went for the cabinets above the stove – nothing.

Then something happened. Through the kitchen window I saw something that caught my attention. It moved across the backyard. The backyard light wasn’t on so it was hard to see clearly. It was large, stocky and low to the ground. I immediately thought it was a dog, but then I heard the rattle of the chain-link fence as if someone (or something) was trying to climb over it. Dogs don’t climb fences…do they? I tried to take a closer look, but the backyard was almost in complete darkness.

Whatever it was – it was gone now.

Later That Night

I still had no luck on finding any relief. I felt miserable. I couldn’t eat, drink or sleep. I eventually wandered into the kitchen to take another look in the cabinets. Again, I looked in the cabinets above the stove. Nothing.

I remembered that “thing” or whatever I saw move across the backyard. I moved the curtains even more off to the side and took another look. I decided to get a better look. I walked a few steps down to the landing and opened the back door. I stood inches away from the screen door and scoped things out.

There was the garage, the boat-house, the row boat…then I saw it. The street light in the alley gave the silhouette of what looked like a small husky figure wearing a horned helmet standing on the garage roof. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like it had a beard too. Before I could make ‘heads-or-tails’ of anything, it was gone. It must have ducked towards the back of the garage roof, becoming completely out of sight.

“What the…?” I said to myself. I thought, “Did I just see what I think I saw?”

I stood quietly and tried to listen for anything out of the ordinary.
But this is East Hammond, out of the ordinary is hard to distinguish.

Whatever it was, there was something definitely standing on the garage roof. Watching my toes, I quickly closed and locked the backdoor and ran back upstairs. I went to the back bedroom (which I called the “Red, White & Blue Room” for obvious reasons) and looked out the window which faced the backyard. Through this window, I had a better view of the garage roof, which I saw nothing.

Once again, whatever it was – it was gone now.

Sunday Morningcold-156666_1280

I still felt like crap Sunday morning. This was no hangover, I knew then that I was officially sick. I hardly slept because I kept tossing & turning. Not only because I wasn’t feeling well, but the thought of that ‘whatever-it-was’ on the roof really bothered me.

I know I saw a horned helmet.
I just know it.

I laid in bed and watched the sun rise and shine through the sides of the window shades. I finally got out of bed. It was 1 PM.

Yep, I’m sick.

Perfect. And I’ve got summer school the next day. Well, I might as well start the day.

I wore my sweat pants and a Hammond High School sweatshirt. I wandered out of my room and into the kitchen. I looked out the and noticed that the chain-link fence had been damaged. I pulled up my hood and got myself ready to go outside.

As I stood and looked at the fence I noticed that something had bent the chain link. It looked as if something heavy and/or strong climbed over the fence bending it all to hell.

My dad was going to be pissed.

Just when I was about to head back inside, I noticed a rather large boot print in the dirt/grass. This boot print (and several others) had tore up the grass as if someone were running through the yard. These prints were as long as mine, but were much wider.

My suspicions that I saw someone on the roof grew stronger.
Something wasn’t right.

Later that evening I spoke to Lisa and Brandy. They happen to be out-and-about with their friend Micky. I told them how sick I was, had nothing to treat it with and that I had school the next day. I wanted them to feel sorry for me – and it worked. They went to the drug store, bought me a BUNCH of stuff.
I didn’t tell them about what was going in the backyard, I figured I’d keep this to myself…for now.

Before bed, I loaded up on some over-the-counter medication and went to bed. My bedroom was at the front of the house, closer to the front yard. I slept with the side window slightly open. The sound coming from the traffic on Calumet Avenue I found soothing.

Not even fifteen (15) minutes in, I heard the chain link fence being rattled.
Once again, it sounded as if someone was trying to climb over it.
I mean, I heard it plain as day. But I just laid there with my eyes open and feeling heavy; listening to the clank and the rustle of the chain link fence. I didn’t care.

That’s because the NyQuil gel-caps I swallowed with a couple of chugs from the NyQuil bottle made it so that I was in no condition to go and investigate.

Good night, NyQuil.

In the END

I never found out what it REALLY was that was running around in the backyard. My dad never said anything about the fence being damaged when he came home a few days later. I wasn’t really sure if I should tell anyone…so I didn’t.

That is – until now.

The War Dwarf

I’ve wanted a war hammer ever since.


Have you ever seen the movie
THE GREAT SANTINI?

If you haven’t, then this won’t make complete sense…well, maybe

White CastleIt was like any other summer week day night.  Bored as hell, drinking beer like a fish drinks water and hanging out with three or four friends.  I noticed a large can of Campbells Cream Mushroom Soup in the cupboard and remembered the movie starring Robert Duvall, “The Great Santini

If you have never seen the movie, let me explain a certain scene to you:

  • Duvall’s character has an open can of soup inside his jacket
  • He acts as if he’s throwing up and pours the contents of the soup on the floor
  • His friends, who are in on it, run up to the fake vomit and start eating it off the floor
  • People get sick and throw up for real
If you would like to see how it went down, buy from AMAZON

ONLY $2.99 

Here’s how it went down at the WHITE CASTLE

White Castle – Calumet Avenue & 165th Street
Hammond, Indiana – Early 90’s (?)

We took some leftovers from a friend’s house (peas, carrots, &c.) and opened the family size can of cream of mushroom soup with a can opener.  I dumped a little bit of the soup out into the garbage can, & filled it with the leftovers and a little water.  I did this so the contents would not be so thick because I wanted it to  pour out of the can a bit more easily when it was tilted over, we were trying to make it look as realistic as possible.

And it did!

It looked like REAL puke!

The plan was fairly easy to follow, all we needed were the characters.  Since somebody had to eat the fake vomit, that character role will be played by “yours truly” and by somebody else who had just as much low self esteem as me, Rash Key.

Next, we needed somebody to carry the fake vomit in the Campbell’s soup can into the White Castle.  We nominated our “large-and-in-charge” red-headed friend to do the honors, Jay Jee.

Fast Food

We had Jee walk in with another friend who then walked straight to a booth and sat in it.  The other friend went to place an order.

After that, Rash and I walked in and stood in line right behind our friend.

That was the signal.   The plan was under way.

All of a sudden, Jee started making some loud dry heaving noises…and they just got louder & louder.  People started to turn and look at what was going on.

Before anyone knew it, Jee made this very loud (and quite a long) sound of himself throwing up.  He sounded possessed.  Hollywood would have been proud.

The next thing you know, there was this (very realistic looking) puddle of PUKE on the table.  Jee made an excellent performance and then soon made a quick get-away out the north exit.
(This was a common exit)

Exit – stage left.

People were confused, everyone looked at each other in amazement as if they couldn’t believe what they just witnessed.

But they ain’t seen nothing yet.

Rash and I looked at each other – we were on.

We walked out of line and headed for the booth with the vomit-like substance on the table.  I heard our other friend in line say to himself, “Oh my God.”

Oh my God was right, because the next thing I’m about to tell you actually happened:

Rash and I approached the vomit and started picking the mushrooms out of it and eating it.
Yes.  Eating it.

It was fake of course, but if you didn’t know you would have swore that two crazy idiots were eating chunks of vomit that came from another idiot off the street.

A man had to actually cover the eyes of his two little boys, while looking at us as if to say, “What the hell are you guys doing?”

I heard people gasp.  Our friend, got out of line and left the restaurant.  Rash and I followed.

We walked out with cream of mushroom soup dangling from our chins, making sounds as if we were the undead.

Ah…good times.

[WANT TO READ THE FIRST “Mayhem at the White Castle”?]


The White Castle Exploding Toilet

PLEASE, DO NOT ATTEMPT


   A year or two after high school, my friends and I discovered a clever way to make plastic 2-liter bottles explode using simply dry ice and water…that’s it.

We had nothing to do one night; bored to death and a bug up our ass – we were already drinking, not yet plastered but we had made ourselves pretty brave with the right amount of liquid courage.

We assembled and prepped the dry ice bomb at my house (Eaton Street) and parked the car across Calumet Avenue from White Castle in a parking lot of a bowling alley – the once ever popular, Bowl-Era.

I wore a dark blue trench coat and hid the 2-liter dry ice bomb within it. I walked through the south side entrance (main) and walked past the order windows, the employees, customers and through the dining room and straight into the men’s room.

Now, in order for me to successfully detonate the dry ice bomb, I simply had to add water – no problem, I’m in the men’s room. Unfortunately, the men’s room sink at this particular White Castle was not “2-liter friendly” at the time, so I was unable to dispense any water into the 2-liter dry ice bomb using the faucet.
I don’t remember there being a urinal in the men’s room, just a toilet. If there were a urinal, I’m sure I would have thought of a better way to put water in the 2-liter dry ice bomb than the one I’m about to share.

So here I am, in the men’s room at White Castle trying to figure out how to put water in this two liter dry ice bomb – when all of a sudden I realize something…

I could scoop the water out into the two liter dry ice bomb by cupping my hands, but that’s just nasty.

I did what I had to do, that’s all I got to say about that.

Now the plan was just to make a big “BOOM” – that’s it, nothing else. I screwed the cap back on and shoved the 2-liter dry ice bomb into the toilet. It was wedged in good and tight.
I immediately left the men’s room and locked the door behind me (I didn’t want somebody to walk in – safety first). I exited through the north doors and ran back to the waiting car at the bowling alley.

I had an accomplice that followed me in, but stood in line to place an order. They were an extra set of eyes and a possible “deterrent” if need be. From what I remember I was told this:

I saw you leave the men’s room very quickly…I knew you had done it. I was next in line, I didn’t want to order…then all of sudden…BOOM! Everybody looked at the washroom and that’s when water started pouring out from underneath the men’s room door. The manager came out from behind the counter and went to the men’s room…the door was locked. Water continued to gush out, she had to run back to the office to get the key. By this time the dining area was covered with water. When the door was finally opened she noticed that the toilet had been blown off the wall and into pieces.

In my defense, that was not supposed to happen.

This was talked about for months, if not years after. Another friend of mine doubted that a 2-liter dry ice bomb could do such damage and did not believe this story – he found out later that IT IS quite possible to cause such mayhem.

PART 2

White Castle


Getting kicked in the balls is one of the worst feelings of pain I have ever felt in my life. Unfortunately, I have experience this more times than I’d like to remember.
 
Here is a brief story of one of those times.

I call this…

The Cup Check

October of 1985 and I was on the freshman football team. A friend of mine named Ryan M. walked up to me and jokingly kicked me in the balls.

He did this at the same time he yelled out, “Cup check!”

Who plays...who don't?

Who plays…who don’t?

It was like in slow motion but there was nothing I could have done. Ryan wasn’t the kind of guy that went around kicking people in the dick…know what I mean? So it was kind of shocking that Ryan actually did this…and of ALL people – me!

Ryan and I are friends, we wouldn’t kick each other in the dick. I take that back…we would kick each other in the dick, but we would both know that it was coming. You would stay on your toes until the threat was clear and some sort of verbal pack would be drawn; a  hand shake and a promise and you were good to go – until next time.

I was walking back into the locker room and I was in the midst of pulling off my chin strap when I saw Ryan walking towards me but he was looking up. He was walking towards me, getting closer and then he pointed up. I automatically looked up to see what he was pointing at.

That’s when I heard Ryan say out loud “Cup check!”.

I didn’t remember at the time exactly what happened – I came to while laying on my back with both my hands firmly supporting my johnson. I had my knees pulled up to my chest and I was rolling back and forth from side to side. I had my eyes shut tight but when I realized what happened, I opened them.

I saw Ryan standing over me bent over with his hands on his knees. He was asking me if I was alright. I remember thinking to myself, “What a great friend, he’s concerned for me.”

The Pain

The only way I can best describe the pain after getting kicked in the balls, is like as if the pain is on the outside of my body. It’s not like a bruised arm or a scratched knee where I can see the injury; where I can interact with it and do what needs to be done. This pain is beyond being able to nurse it – physically. I’m grabbing my balls, but it doesn’t hurt RIGHT there – it’s in the vicinity, but it’s not exactly there in my balls.

From my understanding, the balls are attached coming from the abdomen. That’s why a lot of guys claim to have a deep pain in their stomach after such a tragic event.

Nausea is sometimes experienced, even as far as actually vomiting.urinary-incontinence-103062_640

Some countries are punishing those who kick others in the balls and treating it like a sexual harassment charge to discourage such rude behavior. Being kicked in the balls can have an impact on your ability to reproduce, even to the point to not being able to reproduce at all.

Studies have shown that some males have even had other medical problems related to getting kicked in the balls. Like having digestive problems, difficulty urinating or ejaculating, sometimes the testes have to be removed causing a whole other list of problems.

Please, Don’t Kick in the BALLS


The Willis Tower - November 18, 2011

Chicago, Illinois – Remember when the Sears Tower was the tallest structure on the planet?

I do.

I remember skipping class from Hammond High School and riding up to Chicago to spend the day. My friend Todd Morris would borrow his mom’s car to drive to school in the morning and ended up picking up 3 or 4 of us and we’d all take off for the city.

We’d park the car in a parking garage in the loop somewhere and would stroll the streets of Chicago (weather permitting, of course). We would go everywhere, you name it, we’ve been there…twice!

One of the places we would stop at would be the Sears Tower. We would mimic the movie “Ferris Buehler’s Day Off” by stepping on a railing and leaning our forehead to the window. It would give a weird feeling through your entire body, almost as if you’re falling – pretty cool.

A Brief History on the Sears Tower
(A.K.A. The Willis Tower)

  •    Completed May 3, 1973 the Willis Tower was formerly named the Sears Tower
  •    It contains 110 floors
  •    The Willis Tower stood at 1,450 ft. until 1982*
  •    The Willis Tower stood at  1,704 ft. until 2000*
  •    The Willis Tower stands at 1,729 ft. today
  •    The Willis Tower had the record for tallest man-made structure until 2009

*  The antenna was lengthen to increase its height

The Willis Tower

The Willis Tower