In March of nineteen-seventy-two, a lot of great things were happening.
Events...That would shape history, and alter...The way we think.
You fellas know I'm running for President...
Good woman...
Still, among all that change, there was a common thread.
One experience that united us all.
"Oom, Mow, Mow" - The Rivington's Lunch.
At twelve-oh-five PM every day...
Kids all over America piled in to high school cafeterias.
Like lemmings to the meatloaf.
You remember. The sights, the sounds and that smell.
That odd combination of... Wet trays, warm silverware, and...
Pale green beans.
But lunch at my school, like most others...was rarely about food.
It was about drama...lust...
Power.
Intrigue.
Not to mention...humiliation.
In a way, it was kind of a stage. And we...its principle players.
There were those who could never seem to find a place to sit...
And those no one wanted to sit with.
Those with natural charm...
And those...Who had to work for it.
OK, everybody - watch! One bite! Go! Go! Go!
Me...I was just an ordinary Joe...
Being served something unidentifiable by a guy in a hair-net.
Stocking up on waxy milk... And congealed blue-plate special.
Yeah. All in all...life was good.
I don't believe it. Isn't she beautiful?
Chuck Coleman had one obsession in life.
Sheila McCaffrey - clarinet player.
- I mean, she is hot! - Yeah, yeah, yeah...
- I mean, not just regular hot...I mean, she is... - Diaphanous.
For the past three weeks, Chuck had been using that word.
I'm pretty sure he thought it meant..."stacked".
So, why don't you just ask her out?
You can't just make a move on a girl like that! You have to find the precise moment!
The perfect thing to say. The right shirt!
Face it. The guy was scared witless.
- Chuck? / - What? - We're here.
- Oh...Hey, Ricky. - Hey, guys.
You always sat with the same people.
- Hey, I get the pickle. - Uh. / - Please.
Hey, guys!
- What? / - Nice tie. - What...Your mom dress you again?
Oh, very funny. Look, I-I got a debate tournament this afternoon...I gotta look nice.
Now, of course, Paul was the brain of our group.
So we treated him with the respect he deserved.
Well, sit down...before somebody sees you!
Oh, remind me to laugh.
- Hey, are you gonna have those mashed potatoes? - Ricky, I just got here.
Ricky! Ricky! Did you do your report for *Calvin's* class?
Uh, report...what report?
The report! The one that's due...Today!
A thousand words on the day in the life of a citizen of ancient Rome - and if I don't get it done, I'm gonna fail.
I'm gonna look like an idiot!
- Are you sure it's due today? - Fourteen people told me it was.
Well, well, how come we didn't know about it?
I have to go. I have to find a pencil.
- Oh, my God! - Ricky! Calm down.
A thousand words...What am I gonna do? I-I...I don't know...
It was inevitable.
Every day, somewhere between fish sticks and Jell-O...
Ricky Holsenbach would have at least one academic crisis.
OK, OK - I can do this.
A day...In the life...
Of...ancient Rome.
By...Ricky...
Holsenbach. One-two-three-four-five...six, seven, eight, nine, ten...
Ricky...David Holsenbach.
Sure, we weren't exactly the "A" table...
Excuse me...is-is this seat...
Taken...
But we had our standards. Such as they were.
So, Arnold...We're, uh...ditchin' fifth and sixth period.
- Good for you. - Yeah, we're gonna see "The Devil in Miss Jones".
- Yeah, right! - Uh...wh-what's that supposed to mean?
- It means it's X-rated! - Ooooooooh... / - Whoa...
That's no problem. My cousin works the door - figured we'd take in a matinee.
- Yeah, we thought ya might want to come along. - Me?!
Yeah, we like you! We think you're great!
Everybody says you're a really cool guy.
- Well... - Plus, you got a car.
Look, uh...Pemish's carburetor blew up again, and, uh...
We really thought you'd be the kind of guy who'd want to help us out.
- Well, I'm not. - Sure.
We, uh, understand - you, uh...you gotta get back to your geeky friends over there.
For your information, my friends are not geeks.
Oh, yeah
Hmmmm...
Proof's in the pudding, man.
Well...Anyway...I'm not interested, OK?
Just think about it, Arnold. That's all we ask - just think about it.
Sure. I'll do that.
Let's face it - I wasn't the "ditching" type. I was more your average, everyday...
- Thanks, butthead. - Hey!
Victim. - I need this, OK?! / - Buy your own!
It's not for me! It's for...him.
We called him "Maniac". You know the type.
You never knew where he came from... What he was thinking...
How many family members he might have killed...
Some guys...Bet me twenty bucks I couldn't...find out Maniac's real name. Heh-heh.
And you think a can of soda's gonna do it?
Nah-nah-nah-nah. It's just the ice-breaker.
You're out of your mind.
Hey. For twenty bucks, I'd lick the paint off our house with my tongue. Heh-heh.
I got news for ya. A year later - he did it, for ten.
Ah! Here we are. Hi!
You don't know me, but, uh... I'm Wayne Arnold, and...you would be?
Here.
Bottoms up! Heh-heh.
Kevin? Wait!
- Hey, Winnie! - You have a minute?
Was she kidding? For Winnie - I had a lifetime.
You bet.
See...I volunteered to run this drive for McKinley...and I really need people to contribute.
But you know how people are.
Yeah, I know.
They're so...apathetic. So, I thought...
Winnie! Winnie... Count me in.
Great.
After all, this was the love of my life.
Potentially.
The future mother of my children.
Potentially.
There wasn't anything I wouldn't do for her.
So...what am I contributing?
Blood.
Blood?
Blood?!
Kevin?
I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important.
Oh, God - I was caught between sex and death!
Sex-death, sex-death.
Sex!
OK, I'll do it!
- Great! See you after lunch. - Great.
Great.
Meanwhile, back at the zoo...
OK.An ancient Roman...lived in a Roman house...with a Roman wife and spoke Roman to a lot of Roman people.
What do you think so far?
Don't change a word.
Have you noticed Sheila's skin? It's not like regular skin.
It's like that thin paper that we use in typing class.
Sheila, Sheila - why don't you just go talk to her?
- I can't... - Why not?
- She's eating. - It's a cafeteria, Chuck.
Paul, you can't ask a girl out when she's eating!
It's like a landmine. What happens if she smiles, and she has all these particles of tuna on her teeth?
She'd be humiliated. You can't recover from something like that.
Chuck, will ya stop acting like such a geek?
- Well, what do you mean? - If you want to ask her out...ask her out.
And, from small ideas do great decisions grow.
You're right, Kevin.
So began that long march.
That test of fortitude and manhood.
What's he doing?
He's tying his shoes.
But he's got loafers on.
- OK - here we go. - Now, what?
- He's tucking in his shirt. - It's tucked, ya doofus!
Who's he waving at? OK - he's gonna do it now.
- He's running away. - What's the matter with him?
- He did better than I thought he would... - What happened?
- You were right there! - My part was off.
- You're so full of it. - I'll ask her out later!
Well, if she turns you down, you can always go out with the guy...With the hair-net.
- Shut up, Pfeiffer! - Maybe you could take him to the prom.
But it was almost as if Paul's sarcasm... Had aroused the anger of the lunch gods.
My pants!
And they smote him down...with...Four ounces of ground beef...And a can of tomato sauce.
It was halfway through lunch. In Paris, peace talks were getting under way.
While in Washington...Five campaign workers were breaking in...To Democratic headquarters.
But we at McKinley had more pressing concerns.
- It's not getting any better! - Paul, take it easy.
"Easy"? How am I gonna debate this afternoon with...Sloppy Joe on my pants?
Paul, it's not even that... Maybe no one'll see it.
Hey - do any of you guys know how to spell "org-y"?
It's "orgy", Ricky. "O", "R", "G", Y".
I shoulda asked her out. I'm spineless. That's what I am.
If they cut me open, I wouldn't have a spine. I blew it.
- I totally blew it. - Chuck, it'll be OK.
Oh, no. Here she comes.
I gotta talk to her. I gotta talk to her.
I can't. I'm not ready. I can't do it. I got to. I can't. I can't.
I got to. I got to.
Uh...I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't.
Stop...please.
Hi...
I'm Chuck.
Hi.
I was just wondering, um...if maybe you'd like to...Uh...go out sometime.
Amazing. After three months, Chuck had finally done it.
Gee, Chuck...That'd be nice.
And hit pay-dirt.
Great.
And that's when it happened.
Uh, how about Friday?
Uh, Friday...
I have band practice this Friday.
Saturday - uh, we could go skating.
Oh...Gee...guests from out of town.
It was horrible. Right before our eyes...
The kid was twitching his way toward total self-destruction.
- Uh, how about next weekend? - Uh, I think I'm gonna have to study that weekend.
The weekend after that?
I may have band festival.
Um, you know, maybe we should just try this, ya know, when you're not so busy.
Yeah. It was great talking to you.
Yeah.
And in that moment...I guess we all searched our hearts for the right thing to say.
The caring thing. The sensitive thing.
Kev - you gotta take me to the bathroom.
- What?! - I can't let anyone see me like this.
- Paul! - Just - just - just walk in front of me.
You can come out now, Paul.
- Is anybody in here? - Paul...
I mean, hey...I led the horse to water... What he did now was up to him.
Kev - I think it spread.
Paul - stop worrying. You'll get it out. Besides... No one's even gonna see it.
Hey...nice stain, Pfeiffer!
It's Sloppy Joe!
Yeah, right. So, Arnold? Made up your mind, yet?
- About what? - The movie.
You know, "The Devil in Miss Jones".
Oh.Listen guys. I don't think I'm gonna go.
Know what your problem is Arnold? You think too much, you know that?
So you miss a few classes - so what?
And faced with a logic like that... There was only one thing to say.
Kevin...You can't cut school! You can get into a lot of trouble that way.
Or you could get suspended. What if someone finds out?
What about your parents? Just think...How your mother will feel...if she found out you went to a dirty movie.
And standing there, listening to a guy with chopped meat on his pants...Preach the ten commandments of geekdom...
The decision seemed pretty clear.
Good luck on the debate, Paul.
Let's go, guys.
After all, I wasn't just doing this for me.
I was doing it for the reputation of my entire lunch table.
OK...I was doing it for me.
Still, as we marched down that hall, I felt a thrill of exhilaration.
I was taking a walk on the wild side with guys who knew the terrain.
It was intoxicating, dangerous...
Boys! Where are you goin'?
Stupid!
What are you doing?
- Who us? - Yeah, you.
Well...w-
Guess it was clear someone... Was gonna take the rap.
- We were following him. - Yeah.
W-where were you taking us, Kevin?
Uh...
And at that moment, I saw my entire academic career flash before my eyes.
I saw my mother wringing her hands.
I saw my father wringing my neck.
- We...Were just going... - Kevin?!
Winnie!
Kevin! You gonna donate blood now?
- Blood? - Blood?
Blood!
That afternoon, we didn't get to see "The Devil in Miss Jones".
But we did get free juice and cookies.
Are we feeling better, Mr. Donnelly?
It was ten minutes to the hour.
And the drama of lunch was hurtling toward its final curtain.
Look! I'll level with you. I made a bet for twenty dollars, that I could find out your name.
Now, I'll give you...
Ten bucks right now...if you will just...tell me your name!
Please!
Florence.
Excuse me?
My name's Florence.
Florence.
Well...thanks a lot! I'll never forget this, Florence! Hee-hee.
Just one thing.
If I find out you told anyone, I swear I'll kill you.
Still, in those waning seconds... It was time for a moment of teenage compassion.
Hey, Chuck... How ya doin'?
OK. I guess.
Ya know...I really didn't think she was that hot, anyway.
Yeah...Neither did I.
There! I did it. I finished it!
A thousand words?
Yeah! Ya know, it's pretty good. I think I might actually get a "C" on this.
Ricky, Ricky - did you finish your report?!
- Yeah - I just got it done. - You did?
It's not fair! I couldn't do mine - I drew a blank.
- I'm sorry, Alice. - I'm gonna get an "F"...my parents are gonna kill me!
I'm not gonna get into fashion school!
But most of all...There was still time... For heroes to emerge.
Heroes as noble and virtuous... As the Roman gods.
Or, as simple as...
Here, Alice. Take mine. I don't need to go to fashion school.
Ricky Holsenbach.
You'd do that for me?
I want to.
And, there ya had it. Lunch.
Where romances bloomed and died...
And returned again.
Like last weeks leftover tuna casserole.
What's an "org-y"?
Where the fondest dreams and aspirations of young adults...Reached their zenith...
Hey, tomorrow, guys...tomorrow - eighteen chili-dogs.
And, I'm gonna go to bed without brushing my teeth.
And the quest for knowledge became its own reward.
Sure...Maybe all those dramas played out over lunch weren't really dramas after all.
Did you ever notice how hot Sara Brockman looks in shorts?
I mean, not just hot...but diaphanous.
Still looking back...they sure seemed that way.
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