Kick off your Sunday shoes

I could feel the electricity in the air!

While shouting out the words to the hit single “Footloose” by American singer-songwriter Kenny Loggins, my boon companions and I worked ourselves into a heated frenzy while bouncing our heads up and down to the beat of the music blasting through the state-of-the-art speakers.

To the casual eye, you might think that we were active participants in a gnarly concert being given by the pop recording artist following the premiere of the box office hit with the same name earlier that year.

If only that were true!

However, I was sitting inside the Ellwood City Assembly of God church van with my weekend roommates listening to the radio while attending the annual Pennsylvania-Delaware District Youth Convention in the chocolate capital of the United States of America – Hershey, Pennsylvania – on Easter weekend.

After swiping the only set of keys right out from under our chaperone’s nose at the conclusion of Thursday evening’s service, my fellow collaborators and I hightailed it out to the hockey arena parking lot in an effort to rock out to some righteous tunes before the remainder of the group discovered our whereabouts.

Yogi and Boo-Boo are on the prowl!

Upon hearing the premeditated catchphrase, I quickly turned off the horseless carriage and tossed the metal keyring on the floorboard under the steering column before climbing into the back seat with my co-conspirators.

“How did you boys get in the van,” questioned Rich Oliver as he opened the sliding door to let the other members of the youth group find a seat. “While youns went to the restroom, I sent everyone else on a wild goose chase when the van keys turned up missing; but then the three of you disappeared without a trace.”

“The back door was unlocked,” I implied while moving over to make room for one of our female counterparts at the tail end of the 15-passenger vehicle. “When we came out of the restroom, you’re the ones that disappeared without a trace; so, we figured that it was best to meet up at the church van instead of trying to find youns in that gargantuan crowd.”

“I found the missing keys,” declared Brian Scala after holding them over his head as if he had found the last coveted item on an elaborate scavenger hunt. “They must have fallen out of your pants pocket when you were getting out of the van; because they were laying on top of the carpeted floor mat right in front of the driver’s seat.”

When our designated chauffeur turned on the ignition switch, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper reverberated from the sound system causing the teenagers to move rhythmically to the music.

Before heading back to the Holiday Inn to catch a little needed shuteye, our conscientious driver and his faithful co-pilot navigated the gas-guzzling mode of transportation through the busy city streets to the nearest McDonald’s for a late-night bedtime snack.

“That was a close call,” confessed Jimmy Allen before shoving the last of a double cheeseburger into his mouth and washing it down with a frosty chocolate shake. “If Brian (Poling) had given you the signal just a moment later, our fearless leader would’ve caught you red-handed; so, it’s a good thing our protege has the night vision of a raccoon.”

Unless you wanna get into trouble, keep your trap shut!

Shortly after arriving back to our motor lodge for the remainder of the evening, I escaped through a sliding glass door which led to the courtyard swimming pool and crept past the grown-ups assigned deluxe suite prior to vigorously knocking on the senior high school girls standard size room with two double beds before gaining entry.

“Would you gals like to join us in the lobby for an aerobics workout,” I quizzed upon stepping inside the glass entry to dodge the chilly weather outside. “Since everyone participated in the radical routine last year, I thought it would be the perfect activity to expel all of our excess energy before it’s time to hit the hay for the night.”

As luck would have it, my fabricated scheme to recreate the high intensity drills worked like a charm when Laura Poling pranced from the bathroom wearing a bathrobe and a makeshift turban atop her head followed by her sister Dee-Dee with moisturizer caked on her face; whereupon the pair of sisters objected to my presence with ear-piercing shrieks.

Don’t have a cow!

With a half dozen motel guests flipping on their courtyard lights to see what all the fuss was about, I made a hasty exit through the open slider and tripped over a couple lawn chairs before making it safely back to my own sleeping quarters.

Immediately after bolting the lock on the secondary entrance into our first-floor motel room, the self-appointed hall monitor with his Gestapo-like tactics came to read me the riot act with a scowl splashed across his face.

Did you practice that in the mirror before coming over here?

“I’ve had just about enough out of you for one night,” pronounced the glorified limo driver as he gave me an unrealistic ultimatum for breaking the cardinal rule about entering a room occupied by the opposite sex. “If you even attempt to leave this room just one more time before the sun comes up, you can bet your bottom dollar that I’ll be bunking with you boys’ tomorrow night.”

Like that’s ever gonna happen!

“One more thing before I forget,” offered the large husky gentleman turning red in the face. “After careful consideration, I seriously doubt that those keys fell out of my pants pocket; and I definitely double checked all the locks on the van doors before walking into the arena before tonight’s service.”

Just what are you insinuating?

I’ve got your number!

Directly after placing a telephone hand gesture to my ear, I mouthed the words “call me” before closing the door and laughing like a bunch of wild hyenas with my bunkmates.