JESS DUR JOUR: POISON IVY, SENIORS, AND RASH-INDUCED CALAMITIES

"Hey... I wonder what kinda plant this is?" I queried, snatching a glossy, hairy-stemmed leaf from the vine where it was growing. I sniffed. "Hmmmm ... doesn't have a smell."

Dropping the leaf, I shifted my attention to another unfamiliar, eye-catching plant sprouting near another tree.

"Probably nothing", I assured my friend Kevin and trudged confidently through the underbrush.

Forty-eight hours and variety of curse words later, I am covered, from cheek to ankle, with poison ivy. My ears, shoulders, lips, and calves, and face are wholly enveloped in festering red patches.

The severity of my rash, however, is heightened greatly by the fact that I am simultaneously experiencing some of the busiest, most significant days in my life so far -- I am about to graduate from high school.

Metaphorically speaking, when you are about to graduate from high school, you realize that you are a giant wet washcloth and the people around you are trying to squeeze every last ounce of water out of you before they toss you into the big electric clothes dryer of life. Simply stated, I have a lot of stuff to do before I begin my summer. I am wrapping up 13 years of schooling, attending banquets and senior hoopla daily, bringing closure to 17 years of living with my parents, and coaxing a drastically unpredictable, repugnant rash into politely leaving my body.

It is not an easy task.

At Jackson High School, the administration and teachers go out of their way to dole out lots of pomp and circumstance to their graduating seniors.

A senior all-night party, a senior breakfast, and a senior trip to Six Flags are all on my agenda for the week. Our planned events, in the company of a few close friends, sound genuinely fun. However, when one's limbs and face are camouflaged in red poison ivy patches, trips and parties take on a whole new meaning. I can just imagine myself, entering the gates of Six Flags:

"How many tickets do we need here today, kids?"

"Well, let's see, we need tickets for Rachel, Kevin, Erika, Chris, and Jess, the Full-Body Rash."

I can just see myself squishing into a crowded car for the Screamin' Eagle, contaminating every passenger within 3 feet of me, and creating an epidemic of ivy-infected JHS seniors. "Ooohhh, my leg itches," and "Hey, scratch my shoulder for me, would you?" would constitute much of the conversation on the bus ride home. Perpetual scratching and random shrieks of terror would echo through the seats. Cars would pass our bus on the interstate and scoff as they watched 280 high school seniors scratch themselves like orangutans ...

Okay, so maybe it wouldn't get quite that bad-- but it could happen.

(See, I have these llamas, and...)

Now, as I peer out at the world through red, swollen eyeballs and type my column only between chlorox baths, it is easy for me to get quite delusional about the bizarre phenomena that my rash will bring about.

Instead of having a senior breakfast or a senior trip, we'll have a senior-who's-got-the-biggest-festering-rash contest. At graduation, instead of awarding scholarships to the student with the highest GPA, Mr. Huck will hand out an award for the only student who has ever attempted to scour their entire body with bleach-water. Instead of a valedictorian, we'll have a poison-ivian ... or maybe I've taken WAY too much poison ivy medicine in the last hour.

Regardless of the awards given there, I hope that all of my loyal readers can make it to the Jackson High School graduation; it will be a grand event. Look for me, I'll be the one in a red cap and gown, with a face and limbs to match.

Jessica McCuan is the editor of the Jackson High School newspaper, The Squawler.