Part III : Memorable Moments that could Only Happen in Plattsburgh

Did Plattsburgh really end when four (or five) years came to a close.  Obviously not so here’s a few memorable extensions to my Plattsburgh series.

The Rolling Stones and the Triumphant Road to Syracuse

I hate calling in sick - even when I’m actually sick. So lying about an illness for a day off is nearly an impossibility.  “But Rich, we got tickets to see the Stones in Syracuse,” Steve coerced.  I was forced to relent and made the call. One major personal hurdle falling, another lay ahead.  I’ve always had stage fright. For you non-males, that’s when thirty guys are lined up for the urinal, and you need to muster up the necessary clam to execute release.  A recurring downtown nightmare every weekend. That’s great, but how did we get here.   I'll let Tim explain.  “Rich we got beer, we got food and we got five hours until the concert starts.”  He then reached into the cooler, pulled out an empty orange juice bottle and asserted, “We ain’t stopping.”

Not registering, Tim again implored while shaking the bottle, “We ain’t stopping.” I got it and recoiled in horror.  But when the time came, the evacuation was a moment of personal triumph, and I am a better man today...

Hmmm, I guess you were expecting a story about Mick and the Boys.  No, the Stones were the Stones.  What more could I say.

Dewey Beach Ends Life as we Know and Worth Every Penny

Photo by Greg Gjerdingen

In March of 1986, Johnny officially voiced what we were all thinking. "In six weeks, life as we know it ends.”  Happily, his presumption was a bit premature.  A bunch of us moved to NYC, and we carried on as usual for several years. 1993 to be exact - a trio of weddings were just ahead, and we all took off for Dewey Beach Maryland for a bachelor weekend. Of course, we knew what we were up against and posed a solution.  “We should join the national guard so we can still get out and party together on the weekends.”  Obviously a lot of alcohol was flowing, but amazingly, we all came away in one piece. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for my car.  I was having trouble with my radiator, and filling up with water beforehand, I thought I was covered.  I was right if you don’t count the last five miles.  The engine light went on, the car was smoking, but the drunken directive from the back seat left me no choice.  “Don’t stop, keep going,” Tim wailed. “Keep going.” 

My car capsized, but life as we know ensued in spades that weekend. On the other hand, hoping for the best was not to be by the time word came back from the mechanic. A new $1,500 engine was needed. That's a pretty heavy expense for a weekend of extended adolescence. Are you kidding, it was worth every damn penny.

Route 9 Wrong Turn

2020, life as we know it has long ended. But intermittently the past does reemerge, and the last four years, it’s actually occurred on our home turf. Homecoming has seen 15 strong descend on downtown Plattsburgh, where we’ve proudly conjured up past glory. Johnny fell right off his bar stool in 2014, numerous coeds have been disgusted with our banter, and this past October, we learned my dance moves still live up. A whole series of ladies eagerly got in the groove as I shook it up PB Finans. At least that’s how I remember their glee. But no one has risen to the occasion like Buck, and our Bluff Point Golf stay provided the backdrop.

So not wasting any time this past October, about twelve of us took to the empty course and loaded up on the liquids. Buck deferring on the actual golf, commandeered his own cart and went heavy on the gin and tonic. No problem, and even when we realized the 1984 alum was missing around the 18th hole, the assumption that he turned in allayed any concerns. We soon learned Buck was not crashed out on any couch, and with darkness and cold falling, none of us voiced the obvious. He’s passed out somewhere on the course. We won’t be able to find him, and he’s going to die from exposure. I saw the headline. “Plattsburgh reunion ends in tragedy as drunken alumni freezes to Death.”

In a low grade state of panic, we zoomed around the course to no avail. Fortunately, we were rescued by a phone call from the Clinton County Sheriff. They were holding Buck at the Commuity College, and while it was distressing, the upside was clear. Buck was not dead. He some how got onto Route 9 and traveled six miles to the college. He did $600 worth of damage to the cart, and was going to be charged with DUI. But we managed to have him freed to our care. Even so, we were very proud of Buck and his exploits gives true meaning to our mission statement. Life as we know it has not ended.

Please Like My Entertainment Page on Facebook

Author can be reached at [email protected]