Rowdy Dude and Elrod

This is a classic. It is about CV & TV. It had nothing to do with cross dressing, I assure you.

CV was TVs younger brother by about four years. TV was an alcoholic and could polish off a bottle of vodka in a few hours by himself. He liked to drink. CV was my age and one of my best friends. He drank too and toked, but he wasn’t violent and obnoxious.

When TV got made at CV…well he had this walking cane with a snake head (that concealed a small amount of vodka just in case he was dry) and he used to get mad at his younger brother and clobber him over the head with the cane. He called it Elrod. (Footnote: And yes this was not an episode of professional wrestling). When his Dad would ask TV what the hell was going on…TV smugly responded that he didn’t do it; Elrod did it.

Now for the story about ROWDY DUDE. TV would often come home at 2 AM drunk (on school nights), come up the stairs where the bedrooms were, bust into his brothers bedroom and Yell ROWDY DUDE! And then he would drag his brother out of the bed and throw him across the room and say ROWDY DUDE! Then he would throw him against the wall and repeat ROWDY DUDE!
After that he would say “Rowdy Dude’s tired…drag Rowdy Dude back to his room” and CV did. If it were me, I’d slam Elrod on his head so he would have more that just a headache from the cheap booze!

Eating Woodstock

So we all took a road trip to Stanford CT to see the midnight movie, “Woodstock”.  We took LSD and smoked pot outside and inside the theatre.  The movie was Woodstock after-all.  We were drinking too.

After the movie, we were hungry (making me rethink whether we took LSD that night) and stopped at HJ’s, Howard Johnson’s. The restaurant was empty and there was like 12 of us.  There was a sign on a stand that said “Please wait to be seated”; the flip side was “seat yourself”.  So I flipped the sign around.

The waitress did not like the fact we did this, followed up by our seating ourselves. She made all of us get out of our seats and wait at the sign.  She then sat us down at the same fucking table.  We all ordered breakfast food; I ordered pancakes.  HJ’s food was good and when you’re stoned, you’re hungry.

Valley Girl the Addicted Cat & Nindy

There are so many stories to tell, I don’t know where to start.  Valley was a rescue tabby cat with 6 fingers on each hand.  Her ancestors came over on the Mayflower as these types of cats were considered good luck.  She was curled up in a cage with her brothers and sisters at the shelter and purring so LK2 (I was dating her) and I took her home on the bus.  I lived in that Egyptian Dump over the bar with the rat.  Kitty was a welcomed addition.

One night Nindy came over.  She looked like a cat with black eye makeup that made her look like cat woman and a killer body.  We were friends throughout freshman year and there was not any sexual attractions-really.  Kitty had her plastic hood on as she was sterilized and was chewing at her wound.  Nindy was drunk and we were both stoned.  We were eating spaghetti on plates that sat on our laps and Nindy was getting louder and she got drunker.  She mistakenly dumped her spaghetti on kitty’s head inside the collar.  But kitty didn’t care; she at it and her white fur around her face was orange for a while.  Kitty was officially inducted into the group.

The Summer of Hash-Several Stories from Munchen, Germany

They were all from a single 3 day visit, so I lumped them together.  I would like to add that we started this adventure with an once of blond hash from Amsterdam.  And it may help to understand that I have a Jewish surname.

CN and I are on the 1st class Eurail train from Brussels to Germany.  We have been on the train for not that long and smoked some hash out the window; an old style double pain window.  It could be pulled down from the top or pulled up from the bottom.  It was Hash time so the window was pulled down from the top.

The window shade had a very heavy wood handle across it to pull it down with.  We were very stoned and the window shade somehow slipped out the top part of the window as the train rolled along causing the handle to crash in to the window from the outside. This caused a loud noise and glass everywhere.  This was not good.

There was a lot of commotion on the train and it made an unscheduled stop in Germany and some German police got on the train.  I sear to fucking God they looked like German officers from WW II.  And they were shouting in German.  It was like WW II all over again.  Holly shit.

They came into our car and thought that a terrorist shot something through the window from the outside.  I never said they were smart.  Then they pulled out a little paper book of who’s who in terrorists.  By now they were holding our US passports.  They found a name like George <my Jewish surname inserted here>.  They got very excited and I thought they were going to execute me.  Did I mention that they had German shepherds?  Probably forgot.

They told me in English that sounded like Col. Klink, that I was a terrorist; George <Jewish Surname>.  I pointed to my passport that said my name which was not George.  They looked disappointed.  By now they were getting bored and the people on the train had had enough delays.  The Germans left the train, dogs and all, and the train departed for Munchen.  We were relocated to another room.  We smoked has in the bathroom this time.

That night we went to a higher end strip club in Munchen.  We were both very drunk.  A very attractive lady of the evening came over to our table, and in broken english, said that she wanted to take us both back to our hotel.  Before I could answer, CN said, “NO, Ga-Sholf, Ga-Sholf”.  She understood the No part and left the table politley.

The next day we met a Science Teacher from England, who was electroplating coins worth 7 cents US and using them in place of coins worth 25 cents-conterfitting currency.  I think in Germany you get the gas chamber for just about anything those days.  For some weird reason, he bought a bunch of weird condemns in different colors and shapes.  We had no need for them (cause CN chased the girl away!!!), so we filled with them shaving cream and through them off our hotel balcony.  No fucking idea why and we were not tripping.

That night we went to the Hofbräuhaus, a huge beer drinking establishment where you are able to enjoy many of the traditions from Germany all at once; eating, drinking, dancing and singing.  The only things that went into the ovens were chickens.  The beers started out at 1/2 liter and went up from there.  We had ordered two 2 liter steins.  Up on the wall was like a 23 liter stein that required two additional people to hold it up for the drinker.  No shit.

The next morning we went back and CN had a liter and I had some Peppermint Schnaps Shots (100 Proof).  There were some girls in the eating section-Americans.  We relocated.  We missed the sign that said you can’t bring drinks into the eating area (in the mornings I guess).  We did.  A wench from 50 yards away sent her beer rag spinning through the air and it hit me across the face.  It was God-Like.  It made the day complete and it was only like 10 AM.

The Great Acid Trip in New England

It was 3PM in my small home town in upstate NY.  The three of us, CN, the Bird, and me, were planning our acid trip for that night.  We were doing it on a budget and already had the acid.  First thing was going to the local Beer Distributor and getting 2 cases of beer for under $10.  I looked at the price list and saw bergheim beer.  It was $3.75 a case!  I asked if it was beer and the clerk said he guessed so-I bought it.  CN had a condo.  It was a small New England Town on the Long Island Sound.  It was not too cold out.  We had dinner and dropped acid around 7, 7:30 PM.

(footnote: I can only remember the highlights, truthfully, so forgive me if it is a little choppy.)  We left the condo when we were past the “electric” phase and starting to trip.  I will need to skip forward to when the Bird wanted Marlborough cigarettes and I was into Newport’s (my friend Chung got me started in freshman year of college).  It must have been the summer after freshman year.  We went into a local diner the size of a doublewide coach.  It look liked it was an Airstream, a brand of luxury recreational vehicle that is shinny silver.  (footnote:  my wife wants to travel around the west coast in an RV-I think it is a crazy idea because I think RV; I think trailer parks, etc.  Also $4 per 4 miles).  It looking like an Airstream could have been the acid.  But it was a small diner for sure.

The bird wanted cigarettes and we only had enough quarters for 1 pack.  CN, the Bird and I were in the diner with eyes the size of pies.  The 4 customers and an employee were already staring at us.  We stuck out to say the least.  Quarter after quarter clicked until I heard the sound that the machine was ready to barf up the cigarettes; all one needed to do is pull the lever.  So I did!!!!  I choose Newport’s of course.

The Bird flipped out and yelled something about my choice of cigarettes and ran out followed by CN and me.  We were all screaming by this point.  The bird jumped up and grabbed a small tree branch and pulled his back.  We stopped and I smoked. CN was too smart for cigarettes and we had some pot anyway.  We had also brought 2 six-packs of the beer (the other beer was in the condo staying cold).  So were are out in the middle of a small park with two six packs, me smoking a Newport, and the Bird laying on the ground with back pain.

The Bird’s face lit up.  He claimed that the injury happened because the Tree Attacked him.  I could live with that.  We all laughed about it and then the beer game started.  I am sure you are thinking quarters or some other beer game or contest.  Not so fast Jackson.

Yes, we were drinking beers.  But we started taking uncapped beer bottles and gently throwing them at each other.  We wasted at least 6 of them.  It seemed funny, and after all, they were just Bergheims.  We were in full trip mode and one of us (not me) stole a street sign and we brought the loot back to the condo as proof we were out that night.  We drank more beer and listened to the Grateful Dead.  It was 4:30 AM and CN was tired and needed to take his contacts out, which was a big process.
The Bird and I grabbed the fishing gear and went down to the docks to catch breakfast.  We knew CN would sleep to like 2 PM as he is a big “Ga-Schloof” which in Germany, CN told me it meant to go to sleep in German.  It is not even close.

The Bird and I did not catch any fish and by 6:30 AM the sun was up and we were beat; so we went back to the condo, finished the beer and went to bed.  We woke up and CN was STILL ALSEEP; so as the good friends that we were, we woke him up.  He was very cranky.

When we saw the street sign, the Newport’s, and the empty cases, we new that these things really happened.  And they did.

The Good Rats, Rush, The Biker and the Fire

(footnote:  DG and I don’t agree on one thing here; I say it was the Good Rats opening for Rush and he says Styx.  It is not important to the story.)

We went to the Good Rats/Rush concert (see footnote but it’s my blog).  I made a banner for the Good Rats, my buddies.  I actually sang a song with them at the Before and After Bar-“Does It Make You Feel Good”.  Pepe said, and I quote, “You are the only one getting into this.  Come up and sing”.  I knew most of the audience and was very drunk.  More drunk than stoned.  Also under aged.  But this really doesn’t have to do with the story at hand.

The banner was made of paper and had to wooden posts which security made me throw out at the door-those fuckheads.  So at this point it was just paper.  We were also doing a lot of Whip-Hits (Nitrous Oxide) along with pot and drinking.  Behind us sat a biker in a leather jacket which to his misfortune, he removed and left hanging on the back of my chair.  This was his first mistake.  

I was whip-hitted out and I was lighting a joint and the banner caught on fire as the Good Rats played on.  I hadn’t noticed though.  The fire started burning his jacket.  By the time I noticed and dumped soda on it to put it out, the jacket was burned.  He was bigger than me by a lot.  That was my first and second mistakes.  He got mad and started to yell.  Quickly I told him that someone through a burning piece of paper down and it started a fire and I saved his jacket-he was fucked up and believed me.  His second mistake.  Me and my friends decided that he may realize that I burnt his jacket so we relocated our seats elsewhere.  We enjoyed the show and laughed about the fire.

 

What the Hell am I Doing in Road Island?

My Mom always had different ideas on how I should spend my summers.  Some of them good and some bad.  This wasn’t one of the good ones.  It was summer school in Georgetown RI and I was like 14.  Maybe 15. 

The kids were really stuck up and I had to take classes.  I had already broke my pot cherry and had had some follow up drinking.  I had my guitar and small batter powered amp along for fun.  I did not know anyone.  But I remember two people off the top of my head; Michael, a Jew from Skokie IL, and a Portuguese who’s name escapes me-let’s call him Joe.  

Michael told me the story of the Nazis marching in Skokie and everyone throwing bottles and Molotov Cocktails (they sounded like what Jews drank to get drunk).  It sounded like fun.  I had already created the Christian Killer in art class (DG was there and it was in 2nd grade) with Alan Ginsburg (no, really).  It was a crayon drawing and we were pissed off about the Holocaust.  I was pissed off at God and stopped believing in him, but I digress.

Michael, Joe and I had fire extinguisher battles in the dorm halls and launched water balloons with sling shots.   (Yes I am getting to the drug part; I am just giving you some background).  We did other thing that I have since forgot except for the drugs.

The first weekend, Sat. Night, we followed some older kids into the woods.  They had cases of beer and homegrown pot.  We smoked and drank and made it back to school unscathed.  The next day, however, we found out that David was caught being drunk and was expelled.  They did not even wait for him to be picked up by his parents-you are out of there pal.

We went into his room looking at his stuff-he had a big poster of Hitler on his wall.  He was a white racist bastard.  He trashed the room and his Mom, who came back to get his stuff, wasted her time.  We also never got to go out for the rest of the summer on Sat. nights because of him.

So we found a bar down near the beached that served food and had a pool table.  We all smoked cigarettes.  While they wouldn’t serve us beer, they let us hang out, smoke and play pool.  Many happy times. 

Later on I found out that the guy who had the ice cream truck sold joints for a dollar, I was never so lucky…

Wishful Drinking at Age 13

I am not sure this was the first time I drank; but let’s start here.  It was the 70’s and I was at my cousin’s Bar Mitzvah party.  His brother will later be a major influence in my life as a Grateful Dead Head but I’ll write about that later.  My cousin (the 13 year old) had a party on one floor; the adults were down stairs and the older brother, John the Deadhead, was on the second floor patio with his friends, a keg, and I am sure pot although they at least hid that.  But the keg was PBR and I kept my glass full.  I had about three beers and was DRUNK.  I was around 125 lbs back then, maybe even a little less.  This was the first of many drinking experiences.  I must have liked it because I drank for the next 40 years!!!!