By RHYS WALTERS

I've been attending Nathan Hale High School for four years now. I just graduated, actually. I hadn't been eagerly anticipating my senior prom the way I was apparently supposed to, but I've got to admit, in the month preceding it, I began to get excited.

I wouldn't have if I had known how much trouble it would be.

I had everything planned out. Really, I did. It was easy. Get a date, rent a tux, buy a corsage, borrow my uncle's Grand Prix sports car to surprise my date, and show up in exquisite style. As far as school dances go, it doesn't get easier than that.

But, from the moment the nice, smiling lady at the flower shop asked me what kind of flower I wanted in my corsage, I knew I was way in over my head.

"A gardenia," I stuttered. It was the only kind of flower I could remember.

"Oh, those aren't very good for corsages," she replied. "They go brown the second you touch them, and they're greasy and a little too big."

"Well, what else is good?" I asked, crestfallen. The enormous list of floral names she gave me leaves me wondering how I ever got out of the store.

The same situation kept repeating everywhere I went. At the Men's Warehouse, as soon as the clerk asked my friends and me how many buttons we wanted on our tuxes, we went slack-jawed and started to drool. We just wanted to look as much like James Bond as possible.

And as soon as my mom told my date that I would be surprising her by picking her up in my uncle's Grand Prix, that went out the window as well.

Finding a date proved to be the easiest part of the whole process, which I found surprising. I was sure it was going to be the most difficult. I've never really understood girls, you see. Turns out though, a quick call to my old friend Sarah Moorman, a graduating senior at Ballard High School, was all it took. We've been friends since preschool, and going to prom with her was more like a night out with a friend.

The same situation repeated itself continually through May and into June. Over that 40 some days, every high school in Seattle had their prom. Nathan Hale's was at the Inglewood Country Club, Ballard's was on an Argosy cruise ship, Roosevelt's was at the Shilshole Bay Beach Club, and Ingraham's was at the Fairview Club. Some students had even more trouble with prom traditions than I had.

A friend of mine, Alonzo Alvarado, a senior at Nathan Hale High School and Lake City resident, also went to our school's prom. Problem was, he didn't even know what a corsage was until the afternoon before. He had to get me to race across town and get one, because he was to busy. When I finally got it to him, he ended up wearing it himself, because the boutonniere went better with his date's dress.

I don't know, guys. It just always seemed that "The best night of our lives" would be a little more simple than that. Now that we've got all this practice, maybe next time we'll do better. Wait. There is no "next time," dang.

That's OK, though. Hate to say it, but prom could've been better. Through all the hype, it wasn't all that great. Just another dance, although a little more fancy and a little more expensive.

"It probably would have been more fun hanging out back at Alonzo's," said Megan Wilbert, Alvarado's date and South Seattle resident. "I didn't feel like it was worth all the fuss and money."

I also expected there to be a few more slow songs. I had always envisioned prom as a big romantic dance, and since I'm not a big fan of fast dancing as it is, I was looking forward to a more relaxed dance. Turns out, we had a DJ from the KUBE 93 radio station who liked fast dancing. There were about three slow dances the entire evening. Not quite what I'd call romantic.

The last dance of the night was a Britney Spears song. Not a slow one either. Something seems wrong with ending "The best night of our lives" with "I'm a Slave 4 U."

Still, despite the pre-prom panic and the annoying music, there was something soothing about my senior prom. Here we were, the Class of 2002, dancing away at the last big dance of our high school career. The year is almost over. School is almost out. We're about to go off in to the big scary world and be responsible. We've got this one last night to be kids.

Now, if only there weren't any chaperones...