I really don't want to sound like some drugged out freak....as I am not....but back in the mid 70's everyone did drugs....the jocks, the geeks, nerd, brainiacs, dweebs, heads, freaks etc.....In my high school it was simply easier to count those who didn't do drugs than did.......
Its funny....30 years later as we do grad alumnae surveys the number of successful people who did drugs back then is staggering.......at the latest class reunion it was discovered we had the highest per capita rate of gynecologists in any high school........anywhere.....amazing...
Anyways......we all smoked Pot at the very least....and occasionally got to trip out on other stuff........we did not do that crazy stuff like Meth or Crack......that came 10 years after our experimentation's......we were more ....purists...
But I digress......my story as true as it is may sound a little unbelievable but just for my sake....just accept this as fact.....please.
Mike Graff was one of my running buddies.....He was always a little out of step with the rest of us....not in a bad way necessarily.......he was the first to get a car......and by age 17 he was on his own and renting a house over on the Pat Bay Highway........
As was the case....the first house to be rented became the party house and it was not unusual for a group of us to end up at Graff's.
One Saturday night we had a Rager......Ray Lasell and I teamed up to go to Graffs.......In our collective wisdom Ray and I decided to drop Acid.....getting to the party we found it in full swing....full swing as only teenagers can do it.....( I am now a father of teenage girls.....should I be afraid..?) .......parties like that only happen when you're young.....with youth there is an unbridled enthusiasm for all things new.....drinking, drugs, chasing girls, not catching them, yelling, talking loud, music.........As an adult, todays parties tend to center around talks about stock holdings...how much so and so lost to Bernie Madoff.....The kids.....parties are just not that much fun anymore.....today I come home from a party and say..."That was fun....?.".....as a teenager...You KNEW you were having fun......
This particular night there was a guy there who I did not like.....now...I am not one to dislike people.....I have very few enemies...if any....and I don't even know who they are.......that's how little I worry about it....but then...it seemed that everything was.......hmmm.....more important.......more raw........more in your face....anyways...the guys name was Robin Gray....or as he was unaffectionately known as.... "Sarge".....a sawed off little twerp .....he liked to drink Molsons..........this may account for the social chasm we had........
The party was in full swing....I and pretty much everyone around me was very high on Acid.......we were listening to The Beatles White Album....now, The Beatles......let me say this about them.....way fucking overblown....I am sorry.....Some great early stuff, some great pieces here and there...but a lot of dreck....shit that wouldn't have stood the test of time had it not been a Beatles song......as far as I am concerned....they killed the wrong Beatle......Paul vs. John school of thought.....is it wrong to think that...?
But...that night we were listening to The Beatles White album.........amazing that as a kid high on Acid that we could concentrate on every musical nuance and sweeping theme of The White Album while other teens around us were hurling their cookies and stumbling blind into the nearest wall......
Right in the middle of one of the White Albums best themes....errrrchz.....the unmistakable sound of someone removing the tone arm off a record and then taking the record off....What the Fuck....what asshole did that....doesn't he know we are high on Acid....then a new album dropped....."Wouldn't it be nice if we could grow up, then we wouldn't have to wait so long...."...Fuck...the fucking Beach Boys....I hate the fucking beach boys......what moron took off the Beatles for the fucking Beach Boys...." Oh wouldn't it be nice...da da da..."...
I got up and bee-lined for the stereo......who was holding The White Album in his undoubtedly greasy Peanut Butter encrusted paws...Sarge......!... " Sarge what the hell are you doing...?" I barked....."
"Putting on the Beach Boys.......I hate the Beatles.....".........
"You....are a Fuckwad...." was all I could say.....Now Fuckwad was our version of a triple dog dare you.......basically when you called someone a Fuckwad it meant that your impugning his manhood.....in a sense telling the Fuckwad recipient that you thought he was probably hung like a hamster and at the same time....besmirching his closest relatives....basically saying that it was common knowledge amongst his peers that his mother regularly sucked off Sailors for a pack of Export "A"'s.......
"Them's fighting words..." Sarge bellowed....."....I am not sure he said Them's fighting words....I have re-runs of the Beverly Hillbillies running in the background on TV as I write this so I could be influenced........but whatever he did say at the time was the 70's version of thems fighting words.......
"That's it'''" I said.....let's fight......!" (who says that...? )
Now it must be understood that I had never ever been in a fist fight in my life and have never ever been in one since that night......I have no clue as to how to throw a punch ...no idea what was and was not fair in a fight........Can you kick him in the Nether Knackers or is that being a bad sport...?....Can I pull hair or is that unmanly...? All of these rules and nuances escaped me.....I was a Fight Neophyte....
Sarge headed out the back door with me right behind him.......Now the crazy thing about teenage fights is that everyone immediately gets in a circle around the soon-to-be combatants....it must be something primeval....Cavemen for millions of years must have duked it out over the last Stegosaurus Steak with all of their cavemen buddies getting in a circle around them to cheer them on.....it happens so fast and so naturally.........Did Darwin ever explore this phenomenon...?
Sarge was heading out the door......with me directly behind him....he turned to say something and as he did I drifted him in the head with my left fist....now I am right handed.....my left is only familiar to me as a hand used for spicing up my own self-love from time to time....it has no co-ordination....no real calling in life......its the left hand for crissakes....anyways......why I lead with a left hook is still to this day unknown....but I did.......I popped him in the side of the head....he went down a sack of crap and my left continued off into space......I felt something ........but....
Sarge hit the ground......I was on him like a fat kid is on a Smartie......we rolled around cussing and swearing, gouging and grappling......I had him in a headlock........perfect I thought.....his head, squeezed by my right arm was turning red.....it looked like a wood tick under your skin that was being squeezed between 2 fingers and ready to pop......
I had him.........my free hand was my left and I commanded my brain to command my left fist to pummel this Fuckwad........nothing...it would not budge....huh...?....I had him down for the count and the best shot I had was now refusing to cooperate.........At the same time I also felt a numbing pain in my shoulder.......
As in all good fights there is someone bigger, more experience and respected as a better brawler who eventually breaks up the fight........Mike Duch grabbed both of us and pulled us apart......now Duch was not the guy to tangle with........I had never actually seen him in a fight but it was widely reported that he had actually killed a kid with a spitball......whether this was true or not ...mattered not....it was the thought that he coulddo this ......that gave him the respect as someone not to be fucked with.....
We stood up.......well...Sarge stood up....I tried to stand but the left hand and arm did not help me......I felt like a fish in the bottom of the boat...flailing helplessly...Duch grabbed me by the collar and yanked me up......
I staggered back into the house.....my shoulder...a dull throb.....
Coming into the kitchen....I ran into Ray......." Hey Ray...did you see that..?"
"yeah...what a Fuckwad...!"....I agreed....."Hey Ray....Does my shoulder look funny to you...?"
"Stand up straight" he said......."I am...." I said......
If I was indeed standing up straight why was it that I could scratch my left knee without bending over......?....Shit.....I had done something......now done something is a universal euphemism for saying....I have fucked up...in fact saying........I have fucked up so badly that I don't even know what I have done......But...I know I have done something.......and that something is not going to be good......Yes...I had fucked up....I had done something......
Now when you do something......you must throw out a call for a lifeline.....who....? what's the problem...who's the fixer.....shit....I am going to have to call my Dad..........Dad's are good for this sort of thing...Mom's not so much...
Mom's get all preachy and shrieky....."I told you this would happen..."!!! ....?
Really ...? I don't remember that lecture...which one Mom....the lecture warning about getting too stoned to know that I am being an idiot and picking a fight with a drunken twerp ... where I dislocate my left shoulder in an effort to pummel said twerp.....oh that lecture...? Nope...don't remember that one.....
But Mom's do..." Oh yes MISTER....I told you all about that......You just didn't listen...that's all....!..I KNEW this would happen!..."
This of course, is the classic guilt end run where Mom's always win....they throw out the blanket... I told you so...... just when you're least able to adequately defend yourself.....when you have no strength of position to argue with her....after all.... you are stoned out of your gourd and in severe pain with a dislocated shoulder.......the chances of a successfully mounting a counterattack against this time tested Mom approved guilt trip is slim to none...and slim has just left town.......
I picked up the phone........" Dad......I think I've done something....." trying to sound as helpless and hapless as possible..."
"Where are you...?" he said with slightly defeated tone...... I, being the youngest in the family guess that my father had been called to many a scene by the older siblings.......I am sure this was not the worst or even the most unusual was my guess....
"I'm at Mike's house..."
"I'll be right over...." and he hung up the phone......
20 minutes ticked by.......now the shoulder was really starting to hurt......Acid or no Acid this was not going to be good....
A knock on the door...I opened it and slipped out ...face to face with my Dad......"What the hell happened..?"
"Well....I was helping Mike with his homework and I got up to get a drink of water and slipped on the wet floor....while I was falling I grabbed the countertop.....but on the way down to the floor my arm twisted and then I heard a pop and it really hurts...."
"You're stoned aren't you...?' he said.....
"ummm...pretty much..."
"Get into the car...!"......Now get into the car is a common Dadism......its not the guilt thing...its just what Dad's say when they are pissed at you for doing something.....they just don't know what else to say...so they say..." Get into the car...!"
I got in.......off to the hospital emergency ward.....
Saturday night....the emerg was in full swing.......car wreck victims and ambulance attendants...nurses, doctors, wailing babies......not a peaceful place.....
They took my name and info...Dad standing there glaring at me....they then escorted me into an examination room and then up for an X-Ray.......an hour later...."Yup....you have dislocated your shoulder"....the young intern said......."that's got to hurt?"
Ya think.......
"Well John....we are really booked up for at least a couple of hours so what we will do is give you a shot of Pethidine...its a synthetic Morphine that will take away the pain......."
Shit ...I thought....I am already stoned........maybe I will OD....maybe it will be a bad trip and I'll freak out....I better come clean with the Doc....
" Ummmm.....I have a confession....I, ah...I, ah...dropped Acid tonight..."
The Doctor gave a broad grin..."Oh...you're gonna have a good time then....."
Huh....? Within seconds a vein was found and a syringe slipped into the vein....at first ...drawing out blood then plunging in the Pethidine........
I slipped into a near comatose state........
For nearly an hour I lay on a gurney in the hallway waiting for his return in order to patch me up......at the time I was reading The Lord of the Rings series........my mind was absolutely in a state of bliss......ok....maybe not real bliss....but feeling pretty good.....
I started to hallucinate and saw little Frodo's and Bilbo's dancing down the hallway.....I started to talk to them.....all of which seemed logical to me......
I sensed people (real ones) walking by me and chuckling.....Nurses, attendants...all chuckling to themselves....I could only imagine their thoughts...." Oh great another retard to deal with...."....
another hour went by and the attending Doctor finally came back.....
"Ok.....John...we are going to snap your shoulder back into the socket....this is going to hurt but we have no other option.....I want you to hold onto the gurneys side as tight as you can and I will pop this back in...ok...?"
I grabbed....he grunted.....in it went........I felt nothing.......
They bandaged me up and handed me back to my father......it was getting close to dawn....oh shit....Mom would be up......
We drove down the street to my house just as the sun was rising in the east.....(where else would it rise...duh..?"
I could see on the porch my Mother.......she was wearing her silver Marge Simpson wig which was all the rage at the time.......her arms across her chest.......fuming......
I could see this was not going to be pleasant....thank god I was ripped........hmmm...I should say something pleasant and beguiling....I know...! I gingerly got out of the car........" Hey Mom....look..I am legally stoned...!"
Now why I ever thought this would be the best thing to say still eludes me......but it was what I said......
Its funny....30 years later as we do grad alumnae surveys the number of successful people who did drugs back then is staggering.......at the latest class reunion it was discovered we had the highest per capita rate of gynecologists in any high school........anywhere.....amazing...
Anyways......we all smoked Pot at the very least....and occasionally got to trip out on other stuff........we did not do that crazy stuff like Meth or Crack......that came 10 years after our experimentation's......we were more ....purists...
But I digress......my story as true as it is may sound a little unbelievable but just for my sake....just accept this as fact.....please.
Mike Graff was one of my running buddies.....He was always a little out of step with the rest of us....not in a bad way necessarily.......he was the first to get a car......and by age 17 he was on his own and renting a house over on the Pat Bay Highway........
As was the case....the first house to be rented became the party house and it was not unusual for a group of us to end up at Graff's.
One Saturday night we had a Rager......Ray Lasell and I teamed up to go to Graffs.......In our collective wisdom Ray and I decided to drop Acid.....getting to the party we found it in full swing....full swing as only teenagers can do it.....( I am now a father of teenage girls.....should I be afraid..?) .......parties like that only happen when you're young.....with youth there is an unbridled enthusiasm for all things new.....drinking, drugs, chasing girls, not catching them, yelling, talking loud, music.........As an adult, todays parties tend to center around talks about stock holdings...how much so and so lost to Bernie Madoff.....The kids.....parties are just not that much fun anymore.....today I come home from a party and say..."That was fun....?.".....as a teenager...You KNEW you were having fun......
This particular night there was a guy there who I did not like.....now...I am not one to dislike people.....I have very few enemies...if any....and I don't even know who they are.......that's how little I worry about it....but then...it seemed that everything was.......hmmm.....more important.......more raw........more in your face....anyways...the guys name was Robin Gray....or as he was unaffectionately known as.... "Sarge".....a sawed off little twerp .....he liked to drink Molsons..........this may account for the social chasm we had........
The party was in full swing....I and pretty much everyone around me was very high on Acid.......we were listening to The Beatles White Album....now, The Beatles......let me say this about them.....way fucking overblown....I am sorry.....Some great early stuff, some great pieces here and there...but a lot of dreck....shit that wouldn't have stood the test of time had it not been a Beatles song......as far as I am concerned....they killed the wrong Beatle......Paul vs. John school of thought.....is it wrong to think that...?
But...that night we were listening to The Beatles White album.........amazing that as a kid high on Acid that we could concentrate on every musical nuance and sweeping theme of The White Album while other teens around us were hurling their cookies and stumbling blind into the nearest wall......
Right in the middle of one of the White Albums best themes....errrrchz.....the unmistakable sound of someone removing the tone arm off a record and then taking the record off....What the Fuck....what asshole did that....doesn't he know we are high on Acid....then a new album dropped....."Wouldn't it be nice if we could grow up, then we wouldn't have to wait so long...."...Fuck...the fucking Beach Boys....I hate the fucking beach boys......what moron took off the Beatles for the fucking Beach Boys...." Oh wouldn't it be nice...da da da..."...
I got up and bee-lined for the stereo......who was holding The White Album in his undoubtedly greasy Peanut Butter encrusted paws...Sarge......!... " Sarge what the hell are you doing...?" I barked....."
"Putting on the Beach Boys.......I hate the Beatles.....".........
"You....are a Fuckwad...." was all I could say.....Now Fuckwad was our version of a triple dog dare you.......basically when you called someone a Fuckwad it meant that your impugning his manhood.....in a sense telling the Fuckwad recipient that you thought he was probably hung like a hamster and at the same time....besmirching his closest relatives....basically saying that it was common knowledge amongst his peers that his mother regularly sucked off Sailors for a pack of Export "A"'s.......
"Them's fighting words..." Sarge bellowed....."....I am not sure he said Them's fighting words....I have re-runs of the Beverly Hillbillies running in the background on TV as I write this so I could be influenced........but whatever he did say at the time was the 70's version of thems fighting words.......
"That's it'''" I said.....let's fight......!" (who says that...? )
Now it must be understood that I had never ever been in a fist fight in my life and have never ever been in one since that night......I have no clue as to how to throw a punch ...no idea what was and was not fair in a fight........Can you kick him in the Nether Knackers or is that being a bad sport...?....Can I pull hair or is that unmanly...? All of these rules and nuances escaped me.....I was a Fight Neophyte....
Sarge headed out the back door with me right behind him.......Now the crazy thing about teenage fights is that everyone immediately gets in a circle around the soon-to-be combatants....it must be something primeval....Cavemen for millions of years must have duked it out over the last Stegosaurus Steak with all of their cavemen buddies getting in a circle around them to cheer them on.....it happens so fast and so naturally.........Did Darwin ever explore this phenomenon...?
Sarge was heading out the door......with me directly behind him....he turned to say something and as he did I drifted him in the head with my left fist....now I am right handed.....my left is only familiar to me as a hand used for spicing up my own self-love from time to time....it has no co-ordination....no real calling in life......its the left hand for crissakes....anyways......why I lead with a left hook is still to this day unknown....but I did.......I popped him in the side of the head....he went down a sack of crap and my left continued off into space......I felt something ........but....
Sarge hit the ground......I was on him like a fat kid is on a Smartie......we rolled around cussing and swearing, gouging and grappling......I had him in a headlock........perfect I thought.....his head, squeezed by my right arm was turning red.....it looked like a wood tick under your skin that was being squeezed between 2 fingers and ready to pop......
I had him.........my free hand was my left and I commanded my brain to command my left fist to pummel this Fuckwad........nothing...it would not budge....huh...?....I had him down for the count and the best shot I had was now refusing to cooperate.........At the same time I also felt a numbing pain in my shoulder.......
As in all good fights there is someone bigger, more experience and respected as a better brawler who eventually breaks up the fight........Mike Duch grabbed both of us and pulled us apart......now Duch was not the guy to tangle with........I had never actually seen him in a fight but it was widely reported that he had actually killed a kid with a spitball......whether this was true or not ...mattered not....it was the thought that he coulddo this ......that gave him the respect as someone not to be fucked with.....
We stood up.......well...Sarge stood up....I tried to stand but the left hand and arm did not help me......I felt like a fish in the bottom of the boat...flailing helplessly...Duch grabbed me by the collar and yanked me up......
I staggered back into the house.....my shoulder...a dull throb.....
Coming into the kitchen....I ran into Ray......." Hey Ray...did you see that..?"
"yeah...what a Fuckwad...!"....I agreed....."Hey Ray....Does my shoulder look funny to you...?"
"Stand up straight" he said......."I am...." I said......
If I was indeed standing up straight why was it that I could scratch my left knee without bending over......?....Shit.....I had done something......now done something is a universal euphemism for saying....I have fucked up...in fact saying........I have fucked up so badly that I don't even know what I have done......But...I know I have done something.......and that something is not going to be good......Yes...I had fucked up....I had done something......
Now when you do something......you must throw out a call for a lifeline.....who....? what's the problem...who's the fixer.....shit....I am going to have to call my Dad..........Dad's are good for this sort of thing...Mom's not so much...
Mom's get all preachy and shrieky....."I told you this would happen..."!!! ....?
Really ...? I don't remember that lecture...which one Mom....the lecture warning about getting too stoned to know that I am being an idiot and picking a fight with a drunken twerp ... where I dislocate my left shoulder in an effort to pummel said twerp.....oh that lecture...? Nope...don't remember that one.....
But Mom's do..." Oh yes MISTER....I told you all about that......You just didn't listen...that's all....!..I KNEW this would happen!..."
This of course, is the classic guilt end run where Mom's always win....they throw out the blanket... I told you so...... just when you're least able to adequately defend yourself.....when you have no strength of position to argue with her....after all.... you are stoned out of your gourd and in severe pain with a dislocated shoulder.......the chances of a successfully mounting a counterattack against this time tested Mom approved guilt trip is slim to none...and slim has just left town.......
I picked up the phone........" Dad......I think I've done something....." trying to sound as helpless and hapless as possible..."
"Where are you...?" he said with slightly defeated tone...... I, being the youngest in the family guess that my father had been called to many a scene by the older siblings.......I am sure this was not the worst or even the most unusual was my guess....
"I'm at Mike's house..."
"I'll be right over...." and he hung up the phone......
20 minutes ticked by.......now the shoulder was really starting to hurt......Acid or no Acid this was not going to be good....
A knock on the door...I opened it and slipped out ...face to face with my Dad......"What the hell happened..?"
"Well....I was helping Mike with his homework and I got up to get a drink of water and slipped on the wet floor....while I was falling I grabbed the countertop.....but on the way down to the floor my arm twisted and then I heard a pop and it really hurts...."
"You're stoned aren't you...?' he said.....
"ummm...pretty much..."
"Get into the car...!"......Now get into the car is a common Dadism......its not the guilt thing...its just what Dad's say when they are pissed at you for doing something.....they just don't know what else to say...so they say..." Get into the car...!"
I got in.......off to the hospital emergency ward.....
Saturday night....the emerg was in full swing.......car wreck victims and ambulance attendants...nurses, doctors, wailing babies......not a peaceful place.....
They took my name and info...Dad standing there glaring at me....they then escorted me into an examination room and then up for an X-Ray.......an hour later...."Yup....you have dislocated your shoulder"....the young intern said......."that's got to hurt?"
Ya think.......
"Well John....we are really booked up for at least a couple of hours so what we will do is give you a shot of Pethidine...its a synthetic Morphine that will take away the pain......."
Shit ...I thought....I am already stoned........maybe I will OD....maybe it will be a bad trip and I'll freak out....I better come clean with the Doc....
" Ummmm.....I have a confession....I, ah...I, ah...dropped Acid tonight..."
The Doctor gave a broad grin..."Oh...you're gonna have a good time then....."
Huh....? Within seconds a vein was found and a syringe slipped into the vein....at first ...drawing out blood then plunging in the Pethidine........
I slipped into a near comatose state........
For nearly an hour I lay on a gurney in the hallway waiting for his return in order to patch me up......at the time I was reading The Lord of the Rings series........my mind was absolutely in a state of bliss......ok....maybe not real bliss....but feeling pretty good.....
I started to hallucinate and saw little Frodo's and Bilbo's dancing down the hallway.....I started to talk to them.....all of which seemed logical to me......
I sensed people (real ones) walking by me and chuckling.....Nurses, attendants...all chuckling to themselves....I could only imagine their thoughts...." Oh great another retard to deal with...."....
another hour went by and the attending Doctor finally came back.....
"Ok.....John...we are going to snap your shoulder back into the socket....this is going to hurt but we have no other option.....I want you to hold onto the gurneys side as tight as you can and I will pop this back in...ok...?"
I grabbed....he grunted.....in it went........I felt nothing.......
They bandaged me up and handed me back to my father......it was getting close to dawn....oh shit....Mom would be up......
We drove down the street to my house just as the sun was rising in the east.....(where else would it rise...duh..?"
I could see on the porch my Mother.......she was wearing her silver Marge Simpson wig which was all the rage at the time.......her arms across her chest.......fuming......
I could see this was not going to be pleasant....thank god I was ripped........hmmm...I should say something pleasant and beguiling....I know...! I gingerly got out of the car........" Hey Mom....look..I am legally stoned...!"
Now why I ever thought this would be the best thing to say still eludes me......but it was what I said......
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