Zane Savin:
CLASS OF 1999
Robert T. Elliott Alternative Education CenterClass of 1999
Modesto, CA
Alta Sierra Intermediate SchoolClass of 1995
Clovis, CA
Tarpey Elementary SchoolClass of 1992
Clovis, CA
Zane's Story
Most of y'all didnt know me. I ran with a small, toght group from 5th grade until this day. Sadly, I've completely lost touch with my buds from middle school, but the guys and girls I met in high school, both in Clovis and Modesto are my tightest friends to this day. Nah, they aren't my friends, they're my family. In retrospect, I spent entirely too much time partying and causing mischief in high school to take the time necessary to try and date anyone. Sure, I had a few girlfriends, but nothing serious.
Anxious to get the hell out of Modesto after having my heart broken by a girl I really cared for (and out of respect for her, she shall forever remain nameless. Hell, she and I are the only people who know who she is, as I didn't even want to tell my friends about her and jinx things (Sidebar: In the unlikely event I ever see this girl, I really ought to thank her for doing what she did. What she did to me, I guess, what she had to to do me made me a self-made man, instead of trying to be someone else's idea of what they think you should be. Really, this was my first heartbreak, but in spite of how badly it affected the decisions I made over the next several months [ like running off to the Army cos they enlisted me faster (I guess they don't do background checks on Infantry soldiers); and while waiting to ship out to basic,doing some incredibly reckless stuff that ought to have killed me, like closed casket style dead. Well, I wouldn't be the stubborn, rough, and pompous ass I am today. Had it not been for her,I surely would have waited for the Air Force, where I'd prolly be an O-7 by now and taking it easy, getting ready to retire in 5 more years; so thanks kid]).
Immediately upon graduation (thanks for those variable credits at the venerable Elliott Institution for Juvenile Delinquents and other Assorted Teenage Dirtbags), I joined the Army and took the first job I could get: Infantry. Yeah. GT score 128 (of 131) and QT score 83 (not bragging, but I'm good at taking tests) and the U.S, Army hands me some boots and an M16-A2 rifle system. Then off to Ft. Campbell and the elite 187th Infantry (yeah, we are badass. 32Heaven and 50douche were just that; we got the suck-spending 8 months or so out of the year sleeping in rain and snow and with the critters, having to check your buddy's junk for ticks first thing when you wake up. Ah, what a way to start a morning...). Anyway, I did my time, and decided to stay in the Nashville area, where I had made many good friends while still in the Army. Idea was to go to school, get my Poli Sci (thats Political Science for all y'all troglodytes out there) degree, and get a commission as a 2LT in the Army, maybe a General's Adjutant or something. Got it all done, had pinpoint orders to report to Ft. Bragg in May 2004. In Jan of 2004, some waste of sperm and eggs (really, he was a drunk driving-illegal i...Expand for more
mmigrant-meth trafficking-waste of a human who didn't even have the decency to stop after he flipped me to make sure I was alive) ran me off the road. Got banged up. Army told me to go home and rest for two years, and if I got better, they'd send me to OCS, where I'd be an even greater pompous ass with sadistic tendencies towards privates and assorted E-6s). I'd prolly marry some Army welfare queen skank who would screw around on me every time I was deployed to 'stan or Iraq (its true: in my unit, half the wives were whores. Period. Cannot tell you how many times dudes would come back from a 12-month deployment, jump off the plane, and be met at Campbell Army Airfield by a pregnant wife who's near full term...not cool you whores...and y'all know how you are.
Anyway, with two years to cool my heels, I took menial work doing sales (cell phones, banking, jewelry, retail, finance, cars, your mom, etc.), then my ex-brother in law got me a job as a bouncer at a popular bar in Carlsbad. It just so happened he messed up that night, and to punish him, the security manager promoted me, my first night on the job, to doorman, where I decided who got in and who waited in line. Well, a couple of days after having a potentially cancerous tumor cut out of my gum, I decided to get loaded up on Vicodin and go to work (stuff does wonders for your confidence), and I met a certain shy girl who I could detect had a slamming body underneath the frumpy outfit she was wearing. We had some small talk, she warned me that she was with a 6'8" tall Marine infantryman and his buddies, but he was ignoring her.After I told her how pretty she was, I replied that I too was an infantryman who had at least the same capacity for violence, I mean, self-defense, as her date and that I could more than handle myself against Goliath (Vicodin talking).If nothing else, I had about 13 bouncers who had my back.
Turned out the tough guy approach, or maybe just the fact I talked to her while this mammoth Marine I was supposed to be terrified of was drinking cheap beer with some other retards in the bar instead of tending to his honey, worked: (no offense to the USMC, but this guy was an obvious idiot; he let a good one get taken away from him, right in front his his face):
A week and a half later, that girl from the bar was my girlfriend. Four years later she was my wife. Eight years later, we welcomed our little princess into the world. The world has finally caught up with me. I am being paid back for chasing all the girls I did as a teenager and young adult; the rest of my life will be dedicated to warding off inferior little peckerheads who think they're good enough for my daughter.
Well, thats my life story for y'all who I haven't seen or heard from or just forgot about me. Hopefully someone out there from Tarpey, Alta Sierra, Gateway, or Elliott recognizes me and says whats up.
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