“Everyone is doing it!”

Justin arrived with a smile plastered across his face. He pedaled up to our group on his 10-speed Huffy mountain bike and let us know he has successfully attained the contraband. He revealed a pack of Salem Ultra Light Menthol 100’s to accompany his Cheshire grin. They were his mothers. He’d swiped a pack.

We gasped in awe as he fished them out of his pocket. He had a lighter, too. That was important.

The rest of us hopped on our bikes. Our clan pedaled toward Highland Village in St. Paul, Minnesota. It was our favorite stomping ground – a hub of commercial and retail stores in the heart of the neighborhood built in the 1920s near the Ford Motor Company Assembly Plant along the banks of the Mississippi. We could loiter at Cheapo Discs, look at comics and used videocassettes at Half Price Bookstore, cause trouble at one of the area playgrounds and rent video games and movies from Mr. Movies and Video Update for 49 and 99 cents respectively on Tuesdays, depending on availability.

Justin, Greg, Erik and I enthusiastically weaved around each other and giggled as we pedaled toward our destination – Barnes & Noble bookstore. We swapped tricks and strategies we had learned while playing Twisted Metal for PlayStation and named our favorite Metallica songs on the new Load album while playfully calling each other “motherfucker” and “fag.” It was another day-in-the-life among the white middle class 13- and 14-year-old boys in 1996 and 1997.

We finally arrived at our destination, the alley behind the national bookstore chain. It was a semi-secluded area, but we hid behind a dumpster to be safe. Justin pulled out the smokes. Greg and I each took one eagerly.

I apprehensively held the cigarette between my thumb and pointer finger – unsure of the methodology to begin. A lighter came my way.

“Which end do you light?” I asked.

“The side where you can see the tobacco. You know, the little brown flecks,” Greg said.

“Do you put it in your mouth first?” I replied.

He shrugged his shoulders. No one knew.

I lit the cigarette two feet in front of my face.

I brought it to my mouth and sucked on the white end like a straw. Minty flavored smoke filled my mouth. I exhaled. It felt right.

So, this is what it meant to be cool.

The rest of the group followed suit.

I rested the cigarette on my lips, took another pull and sharply closed the V between my pointer and middle fingers upon the butt. I pulled the cigarette away and exhaled.

“Check it out,” I said. “I look like John Travolta in Broken Arrow!”

We took turns copying our favorite Hollywood elites until the bright red cherries lost their glow.

“Alright, later homies,” Justin said. “I gotta get home.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Erik said. “It’s time for dinner. If I’m late, Linda will be pissed.”

Greg and I biked towards his house, which was across the street from mine. I was eating dinner at his place. His mother always whipped up epic amounts of food and a huge pitcher of sugary Kool-Aid. Tacos were on the menu tonight.

After, I’d be spending the night. We gotten our hands on the digitally enhanced version of the original Star Wars trilogy. A viewing party was on the menu for dessert. We’d watch late into the morning.

Before our viewing party began, we grabbed Cherry-flavored Pepsi’s and snuck into Greg’s brother’s room. We carefully pried his closet door open. Above the shelf resting on the clothes hanger sat a variety of liquor bottles filled with mysterious substances we had yet to taste.

He rifled through the bottles and settled on a fruit flavored Schnapps – Peach, if memory recalls correctly. He plucked it from above his head and handed it to me. I carefully poured the contents in a shot glass acquired from his bedroom shelf, filling it to the brim. I dumped it into a plastic cup. I repeated the action a second time for Greg. Finally, I poured cherry soda over the booze to put a bow on the drink.

We sipped on the fruity cocktails as watched rebel forces battle the Empire. Blaster fires vertebrated across the room in stunning THX sound. We gasped as the glimmer of digitally enhanced light-saber strikes jumped from the screen.

If this is what it meant to be cool, I was sold. This was the life. It was good.