Alone

Firsts: Alone

Part Two

When Mt. St. Helens erupted on May 18th, 1980 my world at Eastern Washington University was turned upside down, sideways and every which way but loose. I was having adventures before then, but after the eruption I erupted myself a tad.

Sure I was a DJ on campus, trained an 0-1 boxer and dominated in inter mural basketball, but I also got a side gig. Being twenty two in a land full of eighteen and nineteen year olds is akin to being four foot eight in a land full of midgets, (or are they now small people, I have trouble being PC) you become king for no other reason at all.

Washington State has state licensed liquor stores that were only open Monday through Saturday and buying beer at any convenience store the clerk took a good look at your ID. So I was the go to at Dressler Hall, you wanted alcohol of any kind, you needed to go through me. Even on an off day I could be bought, and I took orders during day light hours so I only had to make one trip to town a day, though in all honesty I took several trips depending on how business was going. That town was Cheney and at the time it was quite small. They had about three convenience stores and one liquor store.

I didn’t charge a lot, a beer per six pack and a six pack per case, but our dorm refrigerator was always full of beer as was my closet. I charged cash for bottles of liquor and if I wasn’t the most popular resident at EWU, I certainly was the most needed and requested. There wasn’t a day I didn’t walk to town, it was a mile there and only a few of us had cars. There was a law back then that enabled one to drink and drive, you just couldn’t be drunk driving. Sound confusing? It was.

In between classes I was also working at a deli on campus, making sandwiches and salads, so I was doing alright. I also penned a few papers in English Literature for some friends, I was a busy guy. Yet when Mr. St. Helens went off, half the campus disappeared and business took a hit.

Four of us decided a road trip to the northern part of the state would be a good idea, but none of us had a car, so we walked north for a few hours and a lady in a truck picked us up and drove us to a camp ground, ash free. Of course we bought beer at the local town but we all had day packs, and I was supporting our drinking, so our money was going fast. Mojo and I met some young ladies on our second trip to get beer, they were local to the town, and convinced them to drive us back to the campground.

They had a few drinks with us and we talked them into lending us a few, four, sleeping bags. It was just after dark when they left and we were up at the crack of dawn the next morning, thumbing our way west. With school closed for an undetermined amount of time, we decided a road trip of a longer period would be a grand idea.

We thumbed in teams of two and that next morning I was with another younger fella hoping for a ride. Sure enough, the same girls picked us up, I apologized for not giving them their sleeping bags back yet, and they took us about a hundred miles down the road to our next town. I promised to return their sleeping bags post trip and they agreed, and Mojo and I did just that.

This is where it gets a bit seedy, we were pretty broke, had ‘borrowed’ the sleeping bags and started borrowing from stores as well. Mojo had a camera and would take a photo of me with the usually female owner or worker, while the other two morons would be stuffing their clothes with ‘borrowed’ items we didn’t plan on returning. We actually got some great photos.

On day three we thumbed again and were on the Canadian border and stopped at a small town with a Safeway Store. My partner that day decided he was tired of eating hot dogs and chips and thought he’d go into the Safeway and help himself. I walked around a while and didn’t feel right, so I took his day pack and mine and sat out front waiting for him. There was a small park across the street and we were to wait here for Mojo and my roommate Cole.

As I was sitting in the parking lot having a cigarette, two middle linebackers from the Seahawks, dressed as Safeway workers, asked me to follow them into the store. I politely refused, but these two gorillas took both packs and hastened me through the store to the managers office in the back. I was shooting off my mouth the whole time, fucking hayseeds, but they insisted so I went hesitantly.

When they threw me and the bags in the floor of the managers office I noticed my hitch hiking partner sitting in a chair crying, I figured the dumb fuck got caught, he did. The manager came in, he looked like he was a guard of the Yellow Brick Road and I giggled as he demanded to search my bag.

The conversation was fairly quick and to the point, he was brusque “I want to search your pack? ” he was insisting. “Fuck you twerp, I’m leaving”, was my reply, and with that I grabbed my pack and headed for the door. The hayseeds wouldn’t let me leave, so I started to threaten them with kidnapping, unlawful persecution and any other shit I could come up with, but to no avail. The manager called the local sheriff and a Johnny Law was on his way.

My only problem was I had a small bag of weed in my pocket, and that was a felony at the time. Any ten cent attorney would of had it tossed for illegal search and seizure, but I didn’t want to go through that trouble. When the copper knocked on the managers door, the twerp and the hayseeds turned to talk to him and I hurled the bag of weed under the managers desk.

They had my buddy dead to rights, but I had done nothing, and the Sheriff came after me like I was his after dinner pie. I was having none of it. He was in my face making false allegations and I didn’t back down one step.

“I’m a gonna search your pack, boy”, he growled at me.

“The fuck you are”, was my quick retort.

He grabbed for the pack and I wouldn’t let go. “Give it to me now or I’ll arrest you” he was still growling.

I laughed aloud, “for what, sitting in the parking lot?”

I thought a vein was about to burst in his forehead and he ripped the pack from my hands. He started to pull out stuff, found a microscopic fishing pole, that we had borrowed and accused me of stealing it.

“Careers are lost with accusations like that”, I was innocent, at least this time, and his face was reddening in utter contempt and frustration. After thoroughly checking the pack he threw it back at me and I packed up my belongings to head to the door. My fellow hitch hiker had peed his pants by now, and I knew his trip was over. I was opening the door to leave when the cop yelled at hayseed one to hold me there. He had spotted the weed, intriguing turn of events.

“Ah ha, you almost got away, is that what you thought?”

Sure I was thinking that but I’d stay around for this exchange as well. The sheriff bent down and reached under the managers desk, revealing the bag of weed. “You leaving without this?” He was being cagey now, he thought he had me.

“What is it?” I asked innocently.

Now he was furious and he wanted me something fierce. “Who’s marijuana is this?” He asked a question he thought he knew the answer to, fucking red neck dumb ass.

“Fuck if I know”, I lied, “but you found it under the managers desk, you might want to ask him. His beady eyes are red”, and with that I bolted from the dumbstruck hayseeds and headed out the door. The sheriff caught up with me and he wasn’t finished with me yet. “Get in my car, I may not have anything on you but you’re not staying in my town”.

As we walked out of the store I saw Mojo on the park bench across the street and signaled him to follow me. As we got to the sheriffs car I tried to get in the front seat, but he was having none of that. He drove me three minutes to the outskirts of his town and released me like a trout. I waited on the side of the road for about five minutes when Mojo and my roommate Cole showed up.

It took longer to explain what happened than the whole ordeal. They were mesmerized by my bullshit.

This one is getting a bit long, so I guess Part Three will be our tomorrow. Stay safe my friends, I hope this put a smile on your mugs.

Crack Egg Out