Shut Up and Give Me the Mic Read Free

the school stating, grade-wise, I was in the top 10 percent. My mom and dad were so proud, they took me to IHOP (a Snider-family favorite, then and now) for dinner without my brothers and sister (center of attention! center of attention!), then bought me the thing I wanted more than anything else in the world . . . a pair of Beatle boots. The shoes the Beatles wore had pointed toes with a Cuban heel (a style of shoe I still wear to this day). They were a bit pricey and “tough,” but I had earned them with my effortlessly achieved good grades.
    My having those boots totally elevated my cool status. When I combined them with a black turtleneck shirt, relatively tight pants, and my faux-silver ID bracelet, I was really stylin’. What a tool.
    Our move “up” to Baldwin was a rude awakening for me, yet another baby step toward the dysfunctional rocker I was to become. You see, being cool and popular as a kid works directly against the drive and motivation you need to become a rock star. You can’t be out partying, dating, and having a great time after school and on weekends. You need to be locked in your room, miserable and working on your craft.
    The very first day of fifth grade in my new school, I fixed that.
    I was dressed to impress. My mom always got us some new clothes for the start of the school year, and I was wearing the best I had. Resplendent in dark green pants, green button-down shirt (what was I, a leprechaun?) with a black turtleneck dickey underneath, and my Beatle boots, I was ready to take Shubert Elementary School by storm.
DEE LIFE LESSON
    Never walk into a completely new environment as if you own the place. Take the time to get to know the lay of the land before you throw your weight around.
    I walked into Mrs. Saltzman’s class with all the cool and attitude a new kid could muster. I knew I was really making points with my classmates, especially when I got in the face of this big, dumb guy who thought he was tough. Things quickly escalated, and the stage was set for a classic, after-school showdown: 3:00 p.m. at the flagpole!
    For the rest of the day, I was the talk of the school. I was the cool (crazy?) new kid who had the guts to call out “Hammy.”
    Unbeknownst to me, Robert “Hammy” Hemburger (what a horrible name) was the toughest kid in the school. Besides having kicked the asses of all comers over the years, his claim to fame was that when he was only eight years old, he picked up a cast-iron manhole cover to gain sewer access to retrieve a lost ball. This is the kidphysical equivalent of a grown man lifting a car! Unfortunately for Hammy, he crushed the tips of all his fingers while putting the manhole cover back in place. His fingers eventually healed, but they—and his fingernails—seemed to have a pronounced “smooshed” look to them.
    The school day finally ended, and I strode out to the flagpole in my “Irish pride” outfit (no, I’m not Irish) to set this moron straight and cement my reputation in my new school. I cemented a reputation all right. Hammy literally picked me up and threw me against a brick wall. I’m sure some other things happened between my striding and being thrown, but for the life of me I can’t remember. I probably had a minor concussion.
    The entire school was there to witness it (as is the case anytime the toughest guy in the school fights someone, especially an unknown new kid), and the only thing I earned that day was my reputation as the moron who called out Hammy.
    Shortly after that, Hammy decided my last name, Snider, rhymed with snot (?!), and that became his nickname for me: Snots. Nobody else called me that, but since I wasn’t prepared to get back in the ring with Hammy, Snots I remained. Having him call me Snots for all of fifth and sixth grade, and occasionally when he ran into me over the years until he dropped out of school, didn’t do wonders for my coolness factor or popularity.
    But ponder this: If I had beat Hammy that day, I would