[ ]It's been a while since I told this story. I try not to repeat myself too often, but some stories are classics, and it's fun to go back over it all again and keep it fresh in my mind. I talked to an old friend today. Sadly he has cancer and only a few weeks or months to live, but he's in a great headspace, considering. We talked about old times for almost 45 minutes. Marc's a great guy and he was a great friend to me back then. We hung out all the time after the gig, and one night we decided to go to this crazy place called Al's Crossroads. It was named for its geographic location, but judging by the type of place it was, I always wondered if sweet ol' Al had maybe sold his soul to the Devil at the Crossroads.
[ ]Marc's sister Eve came to see us that night, and she'd brought a friend. We were playing in the Larry Russo Trio, which was my second professional band, and I say "professional" only because I got paid a salary. I was green as fuck but Larry, like Skip Perry in my first pro band right before Larry, and Marc took me under their wing and taught me so much. I loved Larry and Marc and I was glad to be able to tell Marc how much I appreciated his kindness and education all those years ago, and for getting me laid, twice. That night before we left the Library Lounge he took me aside and said "Eve's friend is interested in you. You could take pot luck, or go with a winner." Eve's friend was cool as shit. I'm not a gamblin' man, with money anyway, and I took the sure thing. [ ]Back then besides private clubs there were only three bars that stayed open all night- another godforsaken place in Green Springs that I can't believe I can't remember the name of but where they snorted huge lines off the toilet tank in the bathroom, Michael's Steakhouse, and Al's. We usually went to Michael's. We knew the owners. They'd come to see us when they could and when we went there we were treated like royalty. They had a steak sandwich, and I guess still do, that would just melt in your mouth. The only thing like it, in the 'Ham anyway, was Ireland's restaurant's steak biscuits. As "food critic" Dennis Washburn used to say back then, when he liked a particular dish, "I MEAN!" The only thing I can figure is there must've been a good band at Al's, not to mention that the story probably would've turned out differently. It was packed but we found a table. I ordered a Heinekin for Eve's friend and myself. I'm sorry but I can't remember her name so far. She had short-ish blond hair, green eyes and she seemed to be as sweet as the day is long, plus she was seriously-hot. Eve was a certified sweetheart and I already knew that, so I figured her friend must be the same, and she was.
[ ]We were getting along swimmingly. I hadn't really had a chance to check her out much until then. She was fairly tall, maybe 5-7 or so, and her body was pretty much flawless. She was neither fat nor skinny, but perfect for me. Normally I'm not a fan of short hair; it's never been a deal-breaker or anything, and she wasn't "butch" at all, but she was so pretty and engaging that it started to look really good on her. I was still feeling the wonderful effects of the natural buzz you get from playing music, and I really wasn't interested in getting wasted. A little birdie had told me she liked me anyway, and I wasn't worried about having to get her loaded. But things can change on a dime.
[ ]Truth be told I was having a great time and I DID want to party, only not by getting bombed on alcohol. I had some smoke and Sister and I were about to go out to the car and smoke some, or maybe even fire it up in the club, which you could do if it was packed and you were cool about it. Nobody gave a shit back then, and the whole place was a giant cloud of cigarette smoke anyway. Before we left I made a random comment that would change the course of the evening. I said "I wish we had some Quaaludes." It was like something out of a Cheech and Chong movie...somehow a guy in the next booth heard me, and all of the sudden this head popped around the backrest. It belonged to a guy with long hair, a beard and a trucker cap. He said "So...y'all need some QUAAludes?" Timing is everything. "Sure, man" I said. We did the deal right there, and Sister and I took one. I only remember about twenty minutes after that, for a good little stretch of time anyway. I remember Marc and I still being in our monkey suits (tuxedos), talking and laughing with Eve and Girlfriend, but it faded to gray for a bit after that.
[ ]For those of you who weren't around during the 'Lude heyday, I kinda feel bad for you, and glad too. Number one they were fun, and they'd fuuuuuuuuck you up, but the tradeoff with Quaaludes was that nearly everybody I know who did them more than once or twice ended up wrecking at least one car while on them. Maybe thet's why they took them off the market. They really did work, and work very well, for their intended purpose, sleep, but when mixed with even a little alcohol it was an entirely different story. Blackouts weren't uncommon. Taken alone, which I usually did, they were fine, and one of the best buzzes on the planet (RIP, Quaaludes). We didn't drink more than two beers I don't think, but then again I can't remember. It's not like you pass out...you still keep doing things, sadly sometimes driving, but you can't remember a damn thing, often for several hours. That's where friends came in. They'd tell you all the crazy shit you did the night before, and many Quaalude stories, even when told about yourself, were told to you by others. It was very interesting but obviously very frightening, and dangerous.
[ ]I'll never forget the night I ran up on this gal who'd run her car into a ditch. I was on my way home and I hadn't been drinking, so I stayed with her until a cop drove by, which they did about every twenty minutes. Her car was most definitely in a ditch. The ditch had won but she wasn't ready to give up just yet. Her car was sticking almost straight up into the air at a 90-degree angle, half in the ditch and half above the road. Her engine was smoking and her tires were spinning wildly in mid-air. It was Summer and her window was down. It didn't take long to know she'd taken a Quaalude, and I'd already guessed she had when I first saw her tires spinning. Either the driver had passed out or been hurt and their foot was stuck on the accelerator, or they'd taken Quaaludes. Luckily (sort of) it was the latter.
[ ]I looked in the window and saw that she was okay. "How's it goin' tonight?" I asked. "Great" she said. "Why don't you turn off your car and hand me the keys and we'll wait for some help together" I asked. "Thanks," she said, "but I'll be fine. I just need to back outta here." "I don't think that's gonna happen" I replied. "No, I'm fine. I just need to back out." She was so gone that she didn't even know that her car was halfway up in the air and that she was facing straight down, and she couldn't understand why her car wasn't moving. Typical Quaalude story, ha-ha. She wasn't slurring her words much, and she didn't have that smell that eminates from your breath and your whole body when you've been drinking all night. She'd probably had a glass of wine but I knew she'd taken a Quaalude. "Sorry, but it's not happening tonight" I said, and reached in and turned off the car and took her keys. She didn't fight me, and we had a funny conversation until a policeman happened to drive by. No doubt she spent the night in the pokey but at least she was okay. I doubt she even remembered seeing me, but I guarantee I saved her from throwing a rod. She was really revvin' that engine and nearly every drop of oil was probably gone.
[ ]Anyway one minute we were at Al's, and the next moment, which was daylight and six hours later, we were standing in Sister's bedroom, taking our clothes off. We both snapped out of our stupor as we had almost finished undressing. We both looked around the room and at each other, with the typical "How the hell did we get HERE?" look on our faces. We stood there for a few seconds, admiring the view. I didn't have a clue how we'd ended up there but I was fine with it. She was the first to speak. "Well...it sure looks like those Quaaludes are an easy ticket to the bedroom." Classic. "I...I don't remember how we got here" she said as she blushed. "It's okay. I don't either" I said. "Umm...well...since we're here and like this, do you think we should continue?" she asked. "We made it this far" I replied. There's no way in hell I could've said no. I'd laid my tux out on the bed, and she carefully picked it up and put it on a hanger and smoothed it out, naked as a Jaybird, and returned to me. It was incredibly hot, but maybe I'm just old-school. Lordy she was fine. We saw each other several times after that and I don't know why we didn't keep seeing esch other. There were no problems whatsoever with her. She was a good one.
[ ]Well, that's my Quaalude story again...at least story #15 or so anyway...there's several more. Some classic stories are lost to the Ether, but that's how it goes. The old-timers remember...kinda. I have to thank Quaalude Dude for hooking us up that night, and God for not getting into a car wreck, not to mention regaining consciousness as I was in the middle of undressing next to a beautiful woman, only I didn't know how I'd gotten there and it seems like a dream at first but By George it's real. Luckily we came-to almost naked and about to have a wonderful, wonderful time until that afternoon, and we arrived alive. And boy, did we know we were alive. Thanks a lot, Girlfriend. I'm sorry I can't remember your name at the moment. I hope you're doing amazingly well. Don't do drugs. You might end up with your ass in a ditch. Then again you just might pitch a bitch with a girl who's not a witch. Never know. It's a roll of the dice. Either way, have a nice day.
No comments:
Post a Comment