Finally, the night arrived. In preparation, I went to get my hair done, and of course, I bought a brand-new outfit. I was going to look hot in my new low-rise jeans and form-fitting blue sweater. Bra and panties? Definitely optional and here’s hoping that Brett’s option was sans.

Lest you think that I was going in completely unprepared, of course I was taking protection, and by that I don’t mean garlic and a crucifix. I don’t believe in ghosts. I believe in the living, and in taking chances when they come your way.

The tradition held that the captains had to sneak into the room by volunteering to help out in the soup kitchen behind the rectory, where the sisters and brothers of St. Bartholomew’s regularly served food to our town’s homeless. There was always a large amount of volunteers there helping out, so we could blend in inconspicuously. Then, we would sneak into the room when nobody was looking.

It didn’t always work; some couples did get caught. But that was rare. I didn’t plan on getting caught.