It's weird being a social misfit. Your perspective can be somewhat skewed.

When I was in high school, I wasn't one of the "popular" kids. But I blended in, so they didn't mind when I was around. I dressed pretty well, and I assume I wasn't decidedly unattractive. When my friends outside of high school used to ask about my place there, I typically responded that I was "not popular, but well-known". I could talk to pretty much anyone if we had anything to talk about, but we wouldn't go out of our way to do so.

I didn't really have anyone there I considered a "close friend". I would typically just hang with whoever was around - I never gravitated toward any one person in particular. The few times I tried to form a closer bond, I ended up feeling somewhat rebuffed, almost as if they weren't quite sure I was "cool" enough.

Part of that was because I was a "smart kid". That automatically puts you in an outside zone - it tells other people that you at least somewhat care about schoolwork, and often times, that's not something everyone can understand.

I spent most of my middle school years with that stigma. Actually, I had more than just that. I looked younger than most of my peers, and was less willing to get into trouble as your average middle-schooler might, which left me in the "uncool" pile. (My best friend for most of elementary school told me point blank in seventh grade that he just couldn't hang with me anymore because I wasn't "cool" enough.)

So I was pretty solidly a social misfit by the time I reached high school. I tried to compensate by participating in every activity I possibly could - swimming, running, singing, etc. That gave me people to hang with, if nothing else. But I wasn't really close friends with anyone, so I couldn't imagine that anyone would give two beans about how I felt about them.

That's why I was so stunned when I finally had a Breakfast Club moment of my own.

During my freshman year of high school, I trained to be a lifeguard. My brother did the same a couple of years earlier, and he made some pretty good money during the summer. I was always a pretty good swimmer, so it seemed like a good path to follow. (It didn't work out quite that well, but that's a rant for another day.)

But being a certified lifeguard meant more than just summer work. It also meant being able to work parties and gatherings held at my school. It wasn't uncommon for people to rent the pool for parties and such, so it was an easy way to make a few bucks.

I worked one such occasion during the first few weeks of my sophomore year. That particular evening required two guards on duty, so I was paired with "John".

"John" was a guy who'd been in my class for a few years. I always took him to be part of the popular crowd. He wasn't the smartest kid, and he was slightly goofy, but, for whatever reason, he was well-liked and hung out solidly with the popular kids. Truthfully, I hadn't had much chance to get to know him. He hadn't been in any of my classes, and we didn't participate in any of the same activities, so, to me, he was just another one of the guys.

The beginning of the party was relatively uneventful. Kids got in, swam, whatever. I think "John" and I had some kind of conversation, but seeing as how we hadn't really talked much before, I pretty much stuck in "reserved" mode. Passing conversation, nothing more.

We took a break sometime after the first hour. (I think the kids were unwrapping gifts or some such.) I grabbed a beverage, and went outside to get out of the chlorinated air. "John" followed shortly after.

In a relatively terse tone, he hit me point blank with an accusation that blew me away. I don't remember the specific words, but it was something along the lines of "Why are you so full of yourself?!? You always look down on me, like I'm not on your level." I was completely stunned. But when I sat there and thought about it, I found it hard to argue with the sentiment.

I was so used to being pigeonholed as the "smart kid" that I had always played the role. "John" wasn't one of the "smart kids", so in my brief encounters with him, I'm sure I didn't treat him as one. And, without recalling a specific occurrence where I might have actively saw him as inferior, playing the "smart kid" role would easily have made me act that way.

But, truthfully, the part that seemed so shocking was that he cared enough to make the statement. We could very easily have finished the evening without anything more than the passing conversation that occurred during the first hour. Instead, this was a moment out of said John Hughes movie.

It was a complete and total role reversal - the popular kid compaining to the social misfit.

It wasn't so much that I was being a snob - it was more that I'd never really given the guy a chance. That, in itself, though, is its own sort of snobbery. Usually, it's how the misfits become comfortable with themselves outside of the popular crowd - they create a coalition of their own that pretty much excludes the popular kids. Naturally, the popular kids respond by disregarding it. And, usually, it seems to work out just fine. (It was wildly entertaining to see these roles re-emerge at our five year reunion, as if it were the day after our last day of school.)

Maybe it was that I did blend in with the popular kids. He might have been the same way - maybe he didn't see himself as the popular kid I took him to be. In his mind, I might have been the popular kid and he was the social misfit. Admittedly, someone watching from a distance could see me interact daily with the athletes, the smart kids, and the arts people.

I think part of the reason this encounter stands out in my mind is that I still find myself behaving like I did in those days. I'm not unfriendly by any stretch of the imagination. I can still hang with pretty much anybody. But sometimes, I feel myself more or less shutting off - not interacting any more than I have to - with some people. And it's not like there's a specific reason. It's usually just a subconcious reaction.

But I feel bad when it happens. And I sometimes expect a reaction like "John"'s.

And how about the rest of that evening? It turned into a fun worknight. We ran a few games with the kids. I seem to remember participating in some kind of diving board "challenge" towards the end of the evening. (Students didn't usually get the opportunity to use the boards at all.) And during the course of it all, "John" and I chatted about all kinds of stuff.

But, in typical Breakfast Club fashion, "John" and I both went back into our own worlds on Monday. If there was any difference, I think I might have tried a little harder not to play the "smart kid" role around him. Whether or not that actually happened, only history knows. I truthfully don't remember anything other than passing conversation.