"a weekend-long orgy"

Derb on parents and proms:

Exhibit B: The parents of Uniondale, N.Y. This middle-middle-class Long Island suburb has a Roman Catholic high school whose principal has canceled this year’s senior prom on grounds of excess. Says he: “Twenty years ago, seniors went to the beach after the prom and then to someone’s house for breakfast. From that, it’s turned into a weekend-long orgy…” He blames the parents, who are apparently willing to bankroll $1,000 formal-wear outfits, limos, after-prom house rentals and booze cruises, and the like. Wow. We didn’t even have proms in England back when. School ended, everyone went home. That was it. The whole prom thing seems as weird to me as some New Guinea mating ritual. My first real impression of a school prom was the one in Carrie – probably not the best impression to have. Anyway, these parents ought to be ashamed of themselves. What are they thinking of? Probably something like: “If I don’t do this for Kyle/Ashley, I won’t be his/her pal any more.”

I’ll tell you a secret. I went to two proms, and not because I had to redo the last year of high school. I was dating a younger woman at the time. And we don’t call it a prom here, it’s Graduation. It’s even a verb among the grammatically challenged, which leads a person like myself to ask, “Why are you ‘gradding’ if you can’t spell, speak or write?” Oh well, the person I have in mind is probably on the short list to be the next Governor General by now. Anyway, the secret is that Graduation is one of those utterly forgettable events. Do not expect solemnity or sobriety. You can dress them up but you cannot take them out, if you know what I mean.