Origins

Is Chico Your Real Name?

Deep down in the halls of Cross Keys school, 7th grade, I was a painful shy kid. From the random boners five minutes before the bell rang, to the constant feeling of being awkward, middle school ran the gamut of weirdness. You had literally boys becoming men over a span of a summer, growing five inches taller with facial hair, and a deep voice. While me, over here, checking the girl down the hall and realizing not a shot in hell because I was still a kid. Two weeks into school, down the hall, five lockers away from me, with a smile no more then fourteen years of evolution was Roxanne.

She had a certain attraction to her that no doubt made a person lose all train of thought once in, how therapist say, in dialogue. With no game plan, no smooth things to say, or even talk about, and without a clue to approach her, I did not know how to simply say hello to her. My buddy heard me out. He said to me, “dont worry about a thing. We’ll get her, to come to you,” in a devilish grin. In a look of suspicion, what does he have up his sleeves? With nothing else to go by, I went with it.

Soon, we were in gym class. We were playing basketball as some people were watching. Apparently Roxanne was watching as well, for she was a fan and played too. After the game, she came up to me and commented on my jump shot. Later she asked for my name. I literally freaked out–as if living a crappy teenage movie, except I was living it–I lost my name. In distress, my buddy came to my aid and said the first thing that came to his mind. So he said Chico. She thought it was so cool to have such a name. From there on end, I became known as Chico.

Years after middle school, ages after high school, and a lifetime after college, I am still known as Chico. People asked where I got my name and how I got it. It’s all because of a girl, usually is. Things worked out. Many mistaken my real name for Chico, but to their disappointment, it is not. I am working on Mr. Chico when I become too legit to quit.