FINDING YOUR SHAYLA

Flaquita Torres is supposed to be in Mr. Peeber’s 7^th grade science class. Instead, she’s in the wrong place, lamenting how her boyfriend, Ray Ray Johnson has been suspended for the rest of the year for fighting.

I’m just an old man who works as a hall monitor at an at-risk middle school. The words coming out of Flaquita’s mouth are in English, but I have no idea what they mean.

“I miss my Shayla,” Flaquita says.

“I thought Ray Ray was your boyfriend. I’m confused. Do you miss your girlfriend Shayla?”

"No. Don’t you know anything Mr. Al.”

“I guess not. What are you saying?”

“I miss my Shayla.”

“What’s a Shayla?

I’ve never heard that expression before. But that’s what I get for living in a cave on Scorpion Mountain with my pet coyote, Tequila. You can lose touch with the culture at large when you don’t have a television or Internet. But Flaquita is about to enlighten me.

“A Shayla is a person you adore,” she explains.

“And a Shayla can be a boy or a girl?”

“Sure can Mr. Al.”

I thank Flaquita for the newly acquired knowledge. It turns out a Shayla doesn’t have to be a person you’re involved with. A Shayla can even be a pet. Like my friend Greg’s Yorkshire Terrier.

“So Ray Ray is your special someone and that’s why you call him your Shayla?”

“Yup. Sure is.”

“Can you do me a favor and go back to Mr. Peeber’s science class?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Because I miss my Shayla.”

“Well, you can’t stay out here in the hall. And next time you talk to Ray Ray, I mean your Shayla, tell him to stop fighting so much.”

In the Persian Gulf, a shayla has a different meaning. It refers to the traditional Islamic headscarf that covers a woman’s hair and neck. Women in Iran wear shaylas. I wonder if that’s part of the reason President Trump bombed the shit out of Iran. I don’t think President Trump considers the government of Iran endearing or cute. That’s why he doesn’t refer to Mojtaba Khameni, the Supreme Leader of Iran, as his Shayla.

I once got drunk with a girl in college whose name was Shayla. We were in a pub and it seemed like the thing to do. She had beautiful red hair. She didn’t wear a shayla. That’s how I knew about her hair. Her name is of Irish-Gaelic origin. I hung out with my Shayla until I fell off my barstool. She left me after that. She held her liquor way better than I did. I think I was an embarrassment to drink with.

If Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer is your Shayla, you need to see a therapist. If FOX News Host Sean Hannty is your Shayla, you have more problems than any therapist can help you with. If your Shayla is Eleanor Roosevelt, you’re into dead women.

And if your parents named you Shayla, you’re definitely their Shayla. The term Shayla went viral on TIKTOK after an audio clip was posted from actor Tyrese Gibson crying about missing his daughter Shayla during a child custody court battle. “My Shayla,” he cried and the world heard him.

Tyrese blamed his breakdown on the psych meds he was taking at the time. That’s okay big fella, we all cry now and then. The audio clip went viral and became a meme. People started using it as a term of endearment about the Shaylas in their lives.

Ever since then it’s been part of the lexicon. Tyrese gifted his Shayla a Rolls Royce for her 8^th grade graduation. No bullshit. If my parents had given me a Rolls, I probably would have made it to 9^th grade.

But my question is this. When is Tyrese going to make another one of those cool-ass Fast and Furious movies?