After getting on a good drunk, M and I would head over to Wes's Rib House to finish off the night with plates of ribs. This was when getting home at 3 AM was no biggie as we were still “kids” at 25. Our weekly attendances there got the notice of a friend's girlfriend, a waitress, who advised us to stick around past 12 midnight, when her manager left. She then told us, “I have to bring you the bill, but just leave only a real fat tip and just walk out.” I think we abused this perk for about a year.
One night, a group of real filthy, greasy long haired rough looking bikers come in. They belonged to some ugly motorcycle club somewhere around here. When they all filed past our table, we noticed the last one of them, was, and I won't be PC about this, a midget. He too was dressed in the latest biker fashion, black leather and greasy jeans. I suppose you can find size “little person” in some store..somewhere.
M and I finish up before the bikers and we pay just the tip portion of the bill when we leave. Now then, Wes's had this awfully steep and long staircase to the parking lot and you have a decent command of the view from on top. M and I see all those Harley's parked meticulously, all lined up as proud bike owners will do. Parked along side the big huge Harley's was one Vespa.
We both figured which bad ass biker was riding that mini hog. We couldn't stop laughing when we saw it because it too was tricked out in the latest chrome and raccoon tail on the back of it.
*****
Down
by Allen's ave in Providence, near those huge oil tanks, is where you
can find the less respectable establishments that can't quite get the
zoning permit to operate next door to Trinity Rep or the Providence
Library. Seedy bars, strip bars where the only girls they can hire
are the rejects from Foxy Lady and gay bars.
Once a gay friend of ours was itching to show us where he cruised for men half his age and convinced us to show up at Mirabar's Tuesday “Hetero Night.” Hetero Night had a wet tee shirt contest where straight women peeled down to their tees and the Master of Ceremonies dumped a beer pitchers of water on them.
So we go and I am sort of interested in what goes on these places.
The girls start the game and the voting was done by how loud the applause was. It was only the second girl on stage when our clapping was shouted down by a bunch of guys at the back wall. “Boooo! Get her off! She's ugly! Noooo! This is wrong!” This continued for every girl that came after.
I couldn't make out just who they were as they all stood in the dark and my gay friend leans over to say, “Oh, they're gay, they think this is disgusting...they HATE hetero night on these Tuesdays. They want to see wet Hane's whitey-tighty night instead.”
After that, I saw a legless midget (pardon me Lord!) wheel himself in on a...skateboard. I tried not to look longer than one second but I had too! I have never seen this in my life! He rolls up onto the bar and the bartender, leans over the bar and reaching as low as he can, hands the guy a Lowenbrau. “Here you go Scott...what's up with you lately?”
I guess Scott was a regular as evidence by his social butterflying around the bar speaking to every other regular there.
****
One of my brother's friends had made a killing in the dot.com bubble of the late 90s. He created a mail order business on the lines of Office Max before Office Max had the brains to open their own online store. He had come back to visit RI and by chance, I was invited along to go with them to Foxy Lady with the promise we did not have to bring any money whatsoever, he would pay for everything.
We get to the Foxy Lady and to my surprise, he buys entrance to the downstairs where all the girls are butt naked. It was $25 a pop to do this and there were about seven of us. We make it downstairs and as we go into that part of the club, we stop and survey the place a bit.
A few seconds later, an older women, elegantly dressed, the House Madame, comes up to us then stops. She looks at each of us, sizing us up and instinctively goes to our Dot.Com friend and asks, “What are your friends drinking?”
How the hell she spotted the guy with the cash I do not know. Perhaps after years of managing the front of these kinds of clubs she learned to smell it? “This is their leader, their head honcho..and the guy with the wallet!”
We were all in our late 30's or mid 40s and the nude girls, who just walked around, got on stage at will were no older than 23. All were in perfect form but how else can a 23 year old girl look at that age?
One was standing in front of me, with her back towards me and I just was stunned. I just stared and stared. “God...she's so f'ing HOT!” I thought. It was then I hear this much older guy sitting at a table by himself say, “It's killing you...ain't it?” I turn to look and he continues, “It's like you're a hungry dog and she's waving raw T bone steak in your face, but since you were raised right, you know you can't touch!”
It slowly dawns on me I know who this is.
“Mr. Antonelli? I ask.
I go on, “Mr. Antonelli...you taught Early Medieval English at RIC...didn't you?”
His head snaps immediately the other way around as if I wasn't there.
Busted!
I then sit down with and start yapping how I took that very same class he taught. He's becoming visibly uneasy with me there and avoids eye contact but I press on because this is a bit of fun.
“Your wife still working in the bursar's office at RIC still?” I ask.
What finally got him to get up and “I have to go the bathroom real quick” was when I asked about his two daughters. During that class, he would regale us with stories about raising a 12 and 14 year old, who were drama sisters who melted down every two days. Odd how he never came back to his table.
I go back and tell Dot.com guy the story. He goofs on it an says, “Ah, Rhode Island doesn't change, everyone knows everyone else! Hell, look around, this place is FULL of married guys who lied to their wives where they are tonight. Hell, “I'M married and I told the wife I was taking you guys to Atwells Ave tonight..and that was all the info I gave her!!”
When we left, one of Dot.com's buddies was a practicing attorney in RI. We are all silly drunk but not him. He was the designated driver. As we made too much commotion getting in the car, it got the attention of a Providence cop in his cruiser parked close by. Mr. Attorney whips out his RI Bar ID card and says, “Don't even think about it! I belong to the RI Bar which makes me an 'officer of the court.' I am not impaired and if you pull me over, I'll have you before a judge explaining your lack of probable cause!” We were never followed.
That was a fun night and it made me wish I had a lawyer in my car every time we went out to go partying.
****
Montreal 1987. Our little group from college had done the opposite of what most others do on Spring Break, we headed to the Great White North to spend an extended weekend in freezing ass cold Montreal. One of the people to go with us was a guy who had just finished up his 4 year college run and was headed to Seminary school to become a fully ordained priest in the Catholic church. Also with us was this slut, Debbie. Let the fun begin!
We were all piled into one of th hotel rooms and sharing a few cases of Molson beer when the girls suggested a game of Truth or Dare. Of course it started out innocently enough, easy truths and easy dares but because it was holiday time and we were drunk and horny as hell at 22, things degraded.
One of the girls spied me, one of Debbie's friends and asks me “Truth or Dare?” I figure truth had to easier but then she let this fly...
“Tell us all the first time you jerked off?”
OK, so I'm cornered. Perhaps it would've been smarter to ask for the “dare?” No, because then she'd dare me to whip it out I suppose.
So, being drunk, I tell them.
“Well, I was in the shower, a young teen and I had heard all about jerking off. I had tried it years prior but became bored real fast..nothing happened. But this time time as I was working on it and not even a minute has passed, I found myself shockingly standing ramrod straight, every muscle in my body tense up and this amazing feeling happen...you know..down there.”
The Debbie contingent of our group started busting out laughing. I laugh along. Hell, why not. We were all letting everything hang loose on that trip to to Montreal.
Since I was the last one asked a Truth or Dare, I got to pick on someone to try it. But the rules were that I could not pick the one who had asked me to prevent revenge. And I would've too.
Sooo..I
spy Debbie and the Soon to Be Priest lying against the head board of
the bed, just chilling and drinking, well she was.
I say to Debbie...”Truth or Dare?”
She says “Dare,”
But what I wanted her to do could not be broadcast as Soon to Be Priest would have run out of the room
So I whisper to Debby, “Reach into his pants and grab his dick!”
Everyone but the Priest was whispered the “dare” and he soon realized that something was about to happen to him.
I'll give Debbie this, she thought of a more private way to attempt this. She yanked up the quilt on the bed an covered her and near-Preist to their chests with it. I then see some movement under the quilt and a second or later, the eyes of the guy popped.
We all laughed, even our near-preist friend. Did she grab it because none of us saw really, under the cover and all? But, the guy's face was beet red for a good twenty minutes afterwards.
Perhaps later he found a French Catholic church later to confess his vile sins too? If so, it's best the Quebec priest probably had no understanding of English
Another story for later was where M. and I were crawling around a high rise demolition site, drunk on a Sunday 10 AM morning, translating French warning signs that said “Avertissement! Dyna-mite -ta- zeh! We figured out the second word on those warning signs easy enough. No matter we went crawling through it anyways.
Great Place If You're 22
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