Air Ace

I don't know about you, but sometimes I see some little snotnoze sporting sneakers I use to bring the house down with, and all i wanna do is slap them in the mouth. And by bring down the house I mean either sit on the bench during a bball game, or spill slush puppies on. Moot. Point is, there was nothing like stepping foot into that stale smelling middle school, waiting...no, dying, for some beatup-newbalance-wearing shmuck to congratulate you on your parent's new purchase. And the beauty of it was, these prizes weren't restricted to shorts and a court or game of tag. Nah, these were with everything: khakis, oversized button downs, suits (if you could slip it by the rents), whatever. A real walk down memory lane. Oh, and p.s. I never did the no-homo Sambas.