Last Thursday evening, four of us gathered on my porch located three houses up from Bristol Harbor and three houses down from the Bristol parade route, smack in the center of historic Constitution Street. This time of year is a busy one for those of us who live in this proximity; there is an excitement brewing as Bristol residents begin the climb towards July 4.

We had just sat down when we watched a carload of young hooting and hollering boys soaring up and down the street looking for a parking spot. Imagine our surprise when they parked and nine boys got out of the SUV.

My friend and I, mothers to now grown children, went into high alert as we watched one young boy begin vomiting outside of the car. There was little engagement, despite our line of questioning,

“Where are you going, how old are you, who is driving”?

We knew there was no way any downtown bar would let them in; they looked like high schoolers, despite their mumbling that they were college kids.

We knew they weren’t in college; they had that young unstoppable immortal fierceness in their gait, cocky, and on a mission to get somewhere. They were not interested in having conversation with two old couples sitting on a porch on a random Thursday.

The boy who had been throwing up managed to pull himself together and saunter to the front of my house, shirt unbuttoned, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth, carrying an opened bottle of Corona that he managed to put down on the sidewalk while he put his Miami sweatshirt on. We learned that they were headed to some graduation boat party with 10 girls.

While these boys were filled with hormonal directive, we parents who have lived through both our own and our kids’ shenanigans, imagined high school graduation party nightmares. These underage boys were already liquor induced, headed to a boat party, eventually driving home. We visualized the headlines in the newspaper, lives ruined, people dead. It is incredible what the imagination does, but parental responsibility kicks in.

We decided to call the police as a preventative measure. Officer Rosa from the Bristol Police came promptly, and we began pleading our case of prevention. Our suggestion was to put a boot on the tire (not possible), but he did agree to follow through by looking into the registration and contacting the police from that town (Barrington), who then contacted the person who owned the car, the parents. He even came back to assure us that the collaboration between two police forces was successful and that the mother who owned the vehicle would be arriving shortly.

We finally rested, knowing we hopefully avoided a potential horror show.

We sat on the porch relieved when we she arrived. When we heard the clanking of empty bottles being removed out of the back seat of the car, it reassured us we had made the right decision. We headed over to tell her we were the ones who called the police.

We learned the boys were Barrington High School seniors, fresh off the graduation platform. I can understand their need for partying and freedom, after all they were in the middle of their freshman high school year when the pandemic started. It was not an easy high school experience, but we have all witnessed horrible stories of children at the beginnings of their lives doing dumb things with death resulting. We didn’t care if we looked like helicopter mothers, better safe than sorry.

Thankfully, the mother waited for the boys, who upon their return did not look as sheepish and remorseful as we had hoped. As a matter of fact, they lacked the seriousness of this experience. No apology, no thank-yous, one even jokingly asked if he could join us for cheese and crackers on the porch.

This was no joke; we grownups know what can go wrong. The four of us had an evening of worry and angst because of their foolishness. Even if there was a designated driver, it was nine boys in an SUV with open beer bottles yelling like they were on the strip in Fort Lauderdale. These days teenagers should know better.

Our two police forces, combined with concerned parents for someone else’s children, were what made this night tragedy free.

Since Sept. 11, there has been a saying, “When you see something, say something.” This does not just apply to terrorist threats — drinking and driving, open bottles in a car, graduation parties, require a village of people helping to prevent serious accidents.

I am not sure whether the mother called any of the boys’ parents. Nine boys did not return from the boat, so we weren’t sure what happened to the others. But we slept better that night knowing our communities worked together.

I just want to gratefully acknowledge both the Bristol and the Barrington Police for listening to two mothers on a porch at the beginning of what will hopefully continue to be a safe and happy summer for all.