Have you ever been “in a pickle?”
It is an English idiom that refers to someone who has ended up in a sticky situation.
Although the expression’s colorful nature suggests that the predicaments are more minor annoyances than major problems, it can be used for any difficulty where someone cannot find a way out of a particular dilemma.
The origin of the phrase seems to stem from two different places.
First, there is the sixteenth century Dutch phrase “in de pekel zitten,” which literally translates as “sitting in the pickle,” meaning to be drunk.
Second, there is the Shakespeare play “The Tempest,” in which Alonso asks “How camest thou in this pickle?” and Trinculo answers “I have been in such a pickle since I saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of my bones…”
In this case, the phrase also refers to being drunk. In time, it came to mean to be in a difficult situation or quandary.
Ironically enough, the idiom hits the mark and fits in perfectly for what I am about to tell you.
During the pinnacle of my high school career, I was witness to one of the most talked about basketball games of the year when our exceptional high school team trounced its arch rival in the last game of the season.
After bringing my head out of the clouds from the elation, I found myself in a very awkward situation surrounded by a group of my peers who decided to go on a beer run.
As a high school senior, there were very few places I went with the guys, which is why I was so excited when my friend Rob Magnifico, who just happened to be the police chief’s son, asked me to go to the big game with him.
Although we never did much of anything together outside of school, we had remained friends since meeting in the eighth grade. Being one of the varsity football players, he had a host of other friends, which left little time for me.
Since Ellwood City, Pa., was built directly on the county line, the town had two high schools with a long history of being antagonizing sports rivals.
Being pitted against one another in the small confines of a gymnasium, basketball was the most frenzied of the sports.
Standing at the end of the main thoroughfare in town, the classic architecture of Lincoln High School’s auditorium could be seen for miles. On the other hand, Riverside High School was built along the rolling hills of the country club.
Although their sports teams were called “The Riverside Panthers,” we commonly referred to them as “The River Rats,” a name they despised almost as much as us.
Even though I possessed a season pass for the home games, I was required to purchase tickets to the away games I chose to attend. I think I would have been willing to walk through fire just to get tickets to this most envied of all games.
With our basketball teams being pitted against each other twice each year, we had beaten the “River Rats” the last five times we played them, a period of nearly three years.
The one and only day the coveted tickets went on sale, I was up at the crack of dawn. I fumbled around my darkened room getting ready for the day. I was at the school commons by 6 am.
After waiting an hour in the nearly deserted school, teachers and administrators began to filter in, ready to begin another day of learning. Another half hour went by before I saw the first signs of other students.
Within 10 minutes, you could feel the excitement as the commons area filled with students conversing back and forth giving their spin on the big game, which would take place that night.
Having waited two solid hours, I finally had one of the prized tickets in my possession. I was the envy of all my fellow classmates who wish they had gotten an earlier start.
That night our voices reverberated off the gymnasium walls as we cheered for our players every time they drove the ball down the court scoring two more points for the team.
With adrenaline flowing through my body and perspiration streaked across my face, we stood to our feet for nearly the entire game banging them against the bleachers as we continuously yelled out chants pushing our team to victory.
When the game clock ticked down to zero and the buzzer blew signaling the end of the game, pandemonium broke out as we stormed the court elated by yet another triumph over our arch rival.
Following the game, I was so excited when Rob wanted me to go with him to Vinnie’s Pizza, a local teenage hangout in town. I had always heard about it, but never had the opportunity to go there. It was where all the popular kids hung out.
After we finished our pizza, Rob and I, along with two others, headed out.
The euphoria I had been feeling from witnessing the thrashing our basketball team gave to “The River Rats” as well as being with one of the more popular guys in school soon ended.
A nauseous feeling hit me in the pit of my stomach when I found out we were not cruising through town to yell, “We’re number one!” out the window, but were instead searching for a place to purchase alcoholic beverages.
Alcohol had touched my lips only once before when all the kids were given a small cup of champagne at a friend’s New Year’s celebration less than two months earlier.
I didn’t feel comfortable doing something I would rather not have done, which is why I had such an uneasy feeling about what my friends and I were about to do.
At the risk of being ostracized and ridiculed by my peers, I asked my friend to drop me off at the next corner. Respecting me for my decision, he dropped me off at my doorstep.
Although we have remained good friends to this day, the subject of that night was never discussed or brought up ever again.
Peer pressure is something we all face at one time or another, but you need to remember that the popular thing to do isn’t always the right thing to do.