005: I'd rather be driving an all black Ram 1500

The most humiliating thing to ever happen to me occurred one summer morning in 2010 at a skatepark in Redford, Michigan. I was 20 years old, had a total mop of a hairdo and looked borderline anorexic in my skinny blue jeans and long white Kirkland undershirt. The skatepark, which was built upon a former parking lot, was surrounded by a few desolate baseball fields and a community center hosting a day camp. As I was getting warmed up, a group of about 10 little kids assembled into a single file line against the side of the building. I’ve never liked people watching me skate, so I tried to stay out of their field of view.

My efforts were unfortunately not good enough because I soon heard faint voice yell, "HEY SHAGGY! WHERE'S SCOOBY?" My heart stopped and I slowly turned my gaze towards the children. A boy, no older than seven, was standing at the front of the line with his hands cupped around his mouth. "HEY SHAGGY! CAN YOU HEAR ME? I SAID WHERE'S SCOOBY AT?" All of the other children immediately started laughing, screaming and convulsing as if they were having epileptic seizures.

I’ll admit that at the time, I did think this situation was slightly funny. This is why I was able to keep skating around and play it cool. No more than five seconds later, I tried a trick and slammed straight on to my ass. The children reached another level of brouhaha, and I could distinctly hear the boy at the front of the line yell, “WHY’D YOU FALL, SHAGGY!” I remember the burst of adrenaline that precedes the fight-or-flight response. As if it wasn’t obvious, my response was to flee the situation. The issue was that the park was surrounded by a ten-foot fence, and the singular entrance/exit gate was no more than five feet from where the children were standing. The next best option was to retreat to the point furthest to the skatepark, sit, and wait.

The next couple minutes were filled with those kids screaming, “SCOOBY DOOBY DOO!” An adult finally came by and escorted the children into the building. A few more minutes passed before I regained my composure and nervously walked to my car. I think about this moment maybe once every few years.

A little boy wearing cool clothes Me at age four, looking cool as hell.
A young man with shaggy hair Me at age 18, looking very much like Shaggy. Fuck.