Operation Spray Paint
What is it about cans of spray paint that make me feel like I’m breaking the law? Like a cop is going to appear out of nowhere and ask me to lower the can, Miss, and place your hands above your head. Now!
It might be that we used spray paint in our covert preparations for our high school junior-senior day competitions. Whether it was painting signs to declare our dominance or tear down our competitors, the smell brings me right back to March nights in New York in a dim-lit garage, blasting Sisqo and preparing for what we considered to be war. Spray paint was our weapon.
Or perhaps it was the traditional painting of “the rock” outside of our high school after a sports victory. When our field hockey team won States, you can bet we painted the iconic rock. In the wee hours of the night with extended curfews, we sprayed our names and jersey numbers onto a fresh coat of paint. Spray paint was our tattoo.
Or maybe it was the murals we would create backstage during spring break musical rehearsal, painting our names into the cinder block in between our 57th and 58th rehearsal of “This Was a Real Nice Clam Bake.” We planned to be remembered after we were gone. Spray paint was our legacy.
Although it has been over a decade since I graduated high school, and I’m now planning to use spray paint for crafting instead of for painting war signs and vandalizing school property, I still felt a little shifty-eyed as I placed my three cans on the Hobby Lobby check-out counter. But then I remembered, I’m at a store called “HOBBY LOBBY.” If any word can be more benign than “lobby,” it’s probably “hobby.”
Still, there’s just SOMETHING about spray paint.
That sweet sweet sound of the metal ball dancing on the interior edges of the aerosol can–a warning call, as if to say, “Watch out, world. You’re about to receive an evenly coated mist of pure rebellion.”
Best line ever: “You’re about to receive an evenly coated mist of pure rebellion.” 🙂 I totally can identify with this post since that’s the same feeling I get with spray paint…I think of Junior/Senior Day signs. Though I only participated in one Jr/Sr day (my class iconically ruined it our junior year with a fight breaking out in guys’ soccer), it must have made enough of an impression. And probably seeing you with spray paint for your Jr/Sr days. Along with the memory comes a feeling of cold hands, and an exhausted pointer finger from spraying for way too long.
Yes! The cold hands! I almost forgot that sensory detail, but it came rushing back when you described it.
Ah, yes. I think that was rock bottom for me during all of my wedding DIY projects. (Perhaps I’ve even blocked it from my memory a bit.) But that spray worked wonders. No more smeared ink on my invitations!
This immediately made me think of the special spray we got to “fix” the ink on your wedding invitations (which blew all over the front porch in a storm as they were drying on sheets of newspaper). The stuff smelled just awful (as advertised), but it worked pretty well (as advertised, too!). I guess we can laugh about it now finally!!
Love,
Dad
Indeed! Very important to stave off rust. I remember using it to spray the bike rack in Ocean Grove.
Yes…and the refrigerator bottom panel in OG (I did)…I guess it’s that salty air!
Weapon… tattoo…legacy…hobby…I think you’ve pretty much covered all the bases except maybe maintenance–the practical one involving rustoleum which is not quite as exciting as the others but important, nonetheless!