Andrew’s Panic Attack


Setting: Interstate 520, near Augusta, Georgia, 1993


Andrew needed to Augusta to pick up a Driver, at a golf shop where he ordered one. Jesse and Keith decided to go along with him, just to get out of town.

The shop was near the Augusta Mall[1] so they decided to stop by and kill some time. They ended up eating a late lunch at a Lonestar[2]. Nothing wrong with a couple of steaks and a baked potato and a “Texas Rose”, which is simply Lonestar’s version of Outback’s[3] Blooming Onion[4]. They finished their meal, and since Jesse and Andrew had a few drinks, Keith offered to drive them back home.

1Keith was always driving, and he pulled out on to Interstate 520[5], this portion was better known locally as the Bobby Jones expressway[6]. He fiddled with the radio as Jesse kept trying to poke him to get his attention. They were headed to Highway 78[7] when Keith started messing with his ear.

At one point, Seth and Josh gave Andrew some mushrooms that gave him a fairly bad trip that caused him to freak out one night. Ever since then he was overly sensitive to his heart beating faster. Thus, more times than not, causing his heart to start beating faster. Well, he would start checking his pulse either on his wrist, or on his neck, and whenever he would do this, his group of friends would signal to each other by messing with their ear. Keith was driving on and would look over and catch Andy checking his pulse, and he’d mess with his ear.

Keith looks over at Andy and he’s got the eyes of Satan looking at him and says “I’m having a heart attack, take me to University Hospital[8]”. Keith looks over his should with a weird look on his face back at Jesse, who’s starting to cackle. Keith tries to blow him off by saying, “we’ll be home in a little bit and you can lay down”. This wasn’t the first panic attack, but it was most likely the most dangerous. Again, with the eyes of Satan he bellows, “TAKE ME TO UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL”. “Alright man, chill out, I’ll get off on this exit”, Keith says trying to calm him down. “CROSS THE GOD DAMN MEDIAN NOW” Satan Andrew demands.  Keith puts on his flashers, pulls over to the left hand side of the road and starts to cross the grass covered median and is waiting for a break in traffic to head in the opposite direction.  “DRIVE FASTER”, Keith looks at him, and says I’m doing 80, we’ll be there soon. “FASTER”. Keith presses his foot down to the floor. That V-8 engine had seen better days and has a bit of whine to it. Not the sports car, “I’ve got a lot more” type of whine, but nevertheless, he’s pushing it faster. The dash only had 85, on it was pegged, as they were blowing past cars.

As they approached the correct exit, and a small blue light flickered in the rear view mirror. Keith is thinking “Oh Fuck”, while Jesse rolls down the window and drops something out the window.  Keith asks, “What the fuck with that”, Jesse sheepishly responds “grass”. Keith starts to yell at them both like he’s their Daddy and Jesse just sits back down in the seat trying to let it absorb him as Andy grovels. “HOSPITAL NOW”.thCarolinaHwyPatrol1993Mustang-vi_FotoSketcher

Keith turns into the Hospital’s campus and the blue lights in the mirror are much larger, as the South Carolina State Trooper  in a Ford Mustang had finally caught up to his bumper. Keith wheels around to the ER and Andrew hops out with the car still moving clutching his chest and running in. Jesse says, I didn’t throw grass out the window, I threw some ACID[9] out the window. Keith pulls into a parking spot and the State Trooper via his loud speaker “Slowly get out of the car”, Keith looks back at Jesse and says, “If I go to jail or get a ticket, I’m fucking both of you up.”

Keith gets out of the car and follows the new set of instructions now coming from the Trooper who has his hand on his weapon ready to draw. Jesse slides out from the back seat and they each have their hands against the side of the car.

The trooper asks if they have weapons, or drugs, and they both say “No”. He gives them a quick frisking and then says. “Son, do you know how fast you were going?” Keith simply says, “Well, I know it was pegged at some point, but no sir I do not.” The trooper, a mid 40s black guy with a little gray hair sneaking out of the bottom of his hat, which  matched his moustache and goatee said. “Ninety-three, Ninety-three freaking miles per hour is what I topped you out at, care to explain yourself?” Keith said “my buddy said he was having a heart attack and was acting like he had the devil inside of him demanding me take him to the hospital”. The trooper, said “I see”, let’s walk inside. The trooper parks his car, and the trio walk in to the desk and he asks the pretty blonde behind the counter, what is the status of “Andrew Dilfer?” Keith speaks up. “Dilger, his last name is Dilger, with a G”. She says, “They took him right in, I don’t have an update”.

They sit and wait,  and eventually (about 30 minutes later), Andrew comes out, with his red polo shirt drenched with sweat. Evidently, the steak sauce that he put on his steak had some form of pepper/ingredient in it that he had an allergic reaction with.

The trooper understood that it was a medical emergency and let Keith off with a warning, winking at him to take it easy and slow it down on the way home. As he’s walking out the door, Keith says “Sir, how fast were you going”. The trooper, stops, rubs his goatee for a second, and says “mine was pegged too, but mine says 120”. Keith says, “Yeah I know, another friends dad has one. They will fly.”

They get back in the Blazer, and head for home. Keith says, “Don’t say a God Damn word until I say something first.” About halfway home, Keith turns the radio down and asks “so was it the sauce on the steak or the acid that fucked with your mind?”  Andrew says “What acid”, as Jesse erupts in laughter from the back. Andy starts yelling at Jesse and then looked at him and says “man that was a fucking trip”. Keith pulls the new Dodgers[10] hat he bought at the mall down on to his head and puts some more weight on the gas pedal. He wants this trip to end. Thank god they didn’t give him a tox screen or a drug test.












Then I Believe I will!


Setting: Rental car somewhere in Lexington County, SC, summer, 1996.

After an unsuccessful night at Bundy’s over near Columbia, Keith Singer was pulling out in a rental car, a candy apple red 1996 Chevrolet Lumina[1], his Honda Accord was in the shop following a bump up in Atlanta. Keith, jerks the wheel and hits the breaks to get the attention of his passengers who were bickering between each other. All he wanted to know was where they were headed next. To continue to go po-dunk bar hopping or head back home. An unsuccessful night at this point in time meant no ass, as to where it used to mean no ass or no fighting.

Chevrolet-Lumina-Euro-3.4-sedanLittle did Keith know at the top of the street near the traffic light sat a Lexington County Deputy Sheriff partially hidden by the sign of his old prick Orthodontist’s office.

While In Bundy’s Keith, the designated drive, had not had a drop to drink. The rest of the gang, Seth, Andrew, Kelly and Josh, well, none of the four needed to be driving, and unfortunately, Keith was wearing about three beers. Two from the same ditzy blonde that stepped on his feet twice leaving the bar area. One was friendly fire when Kelly was yelling at the television as Michael Jordan’s[2] Chicago Bulls[3] were losing to the Seattle Supersonics in the NBA Finals[4].

He pulls up to the stop light and Josh says “don’t look know but a cop just pulled out behind you”. Keith says, “That’s fine all I had was a Coke[5]”. The light shines green and Keith pulls out and about 100 yards later, the blue lights start spraying all over the blue-lightsplace. Keith slows, puts on his signal and pulls into a run-down shopping center that according to Andrew used to house a good old fashioned “rub n tug”. Two things Andy knows about. Where to find a Chinese buffet and massage parlor that offered happy endings. Imagine that.

The deputy get out of the car, and Keith has the information he needs on the ready for him.


LCDS: Licenses & registration. Oh boy I can smell you from here.

KS: Here you go. You smell my clothes not me.
LCDS: Un huh, I’ve heard that lie before:

KS: (Simply bits his tongue and nods his head”)


LCDS: Boy, how much you had to drink? (As he radios in for a south Carolina State Trooper to come and administer a Breathalyzer.

KS: I’ve had a coke.


LCDS: Boy, now don’t be a smart ass.

KS: I was simply answering your question.


LCDS: Get out of the car. Do you have any weapons?

KS: Okay.  No


LCDS: You sure are a biggin (of course when you are about 5’7 a lot of guys are “biggins”,

LCDS: Lean your head back, and touch your nose.
KS:(follows instructions)


LCDS: Walk this line with your arms out.

KS: (follows instructions)


LCDS: Count to fitty in intervals of 5, then back down to zero

KS: 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, 40, 45, 50, 49, 48, 47, etc.


LCDS: What the hell did you swerve at down there?

KS: There was dog or an animal crossing the road so I hit my breaks a bit.


LCDS: Un huh, I think your drunk. The tropper will be here soon.

At this point, the passengers in the Lumina are getting antsy, and Andy had to piss, so he was searching for a cup or something, and then Seth was threatening to fight him if he tries to piss into the Coke can that was in the floorboard.

South Carolina State Trooper Brocke Wilson arrives, and calls into dispatch that he’s assisting a Lexington County Sheriff Deputy.


SCST: Hey Stumpy did you catch one?(the two policemen have obviously worked together before.

LCSD: Sure did Brocke, this one is functioning but he’s drunk.


SCST: Where ya been tonight? How much have you had to drink tonight sir?

KS: Sir, my buddies, and I were at Bundy’s. Now if you have them blow in your machine they will likely break it, but all I’ve had was a coke. I had some beers spilled on and me and I’m sure that you can smell it, but I’m sober.


SCST: Did you give him field tests?

LCSD: Sure did, like I said he’s functioning.
SCST: Opens up his kit and turns it on and puts a new straw in. Blow into this sir

KS: (follows instructions)


SCST: The machine makes a noise, 0.0 registers on the screen. The Trooper turns it off, back on, try again.

KS:(follows instructions)
SCST: The machine makes a noise, 0.0 again registers on the screen. Stumpy, I think this one was telling the truth. Why did you stop him?

LCSD: Well, he was pulling out of Bundy’s then swerved and hit his brakes, claimed an animal was crossing the road.

SCST: Did he cross the yellow line?


SCST: Was he speeding?

LCSD: Now, Brocke you know we ain’t got radar.

SCST: Well, I’m not sure what you can charge him with.

LCSD: I was afraid of that. Here you go. Drive safely.


Keith takes his license and rental paper work and returns to the car, about the time the driver’s side rear window rolls down. Keith is thinking “Oh boy, here we go”, Seth says “Hey officer I got a question for you”. They each walk closer to the car. Seth asks, “What’s the law here about an open container”, the two policemen look at each other a bit dumbfounded and the Trooper responds, “Well, you can have an open container of beer or a wine cooler for every passenger that is of age.”  Seth pulls a can out between his legs and says “Then I believe I will!” As he opens the can with a loud “Spewww”.  Keith pulls off on to the road and they head home as Seth passes out beers to the others.







Me and the Mayor got a deal


Setting:  Montclair Drive circa 1993-1994

This will serve as the introduction to Tracy Mason “Tiny” Little, which at this point was around 35 years old.  Tiny, which was not really an accurate description. Tiny wasn’t extremely tall by any means checking in at about 5’10”, but he hit the scale at about 255. At points in time he worked for state DOT, but I think one of his multiple DUI charges likely nixed that job for him.  His grandfather and dad ran Little’s antiques, where they had a collection for sell but also reconditioned pieces as well.

By now, both his father and grandfather had passed away and his grandmother still alive and Tracy lived on the property with her, up until she passed and the property somehow transferred to his father’s 2nd or 3rd wife instead down to his  5 children.

Well, one day, Jesse, his younger brother by a dozen years was driving the middle of the town with Keith, I think they were headed to the Bear Lodge to grab a bit to eat when they spotted Tracy pulling out of the Wilco[1].  That seems like a fairly common occurrence. The Wilco for those that aren’t from the south is a chain of gas stations and convenience stores. People get gas, people pick up drinks/food/etc. Again, a common occurrence. Not much was common about Tracy. As mentioned above this  was a period when he was either still on probation from one of his DUI charges, or he already had consumed too much to get his truck started since part of his penalties was to have a breath apparatus attached to the vehicle. At some points he’d help his grandmother down the stairs and out to the truck just so she could blow in the tube to get it started.

So, TracWilco_FotoSketcher_FotoSketchery was pulling out of Wilco.


On his lawnmower. It sounds a bit like stories of George Jones[2] and his various trips to procure some form of alcohol. The antique shop/house was only about half a mile to a mile away from Wilco, so Tiny could easily walked to it, but the kicker was that he had 3 cases of beer attached to the hood of the mower with bungee cords. Jesse turned around and took a right on Montclair and slowed down and started yelling at his brother.



To the best of recalled knowledge here is a mini-transcript:

Jesse: What the hell are you doing?

Tiny: Going home


Jesse: Why are you mowing the grass?

Tiny: Me and the Mayor got a deal!


Jesse: Bull shit you are just getting some beer and you couldn’t get your ole truck started.

Tiny: No, me and the Mayor got a deal where I’d mow this strip of grass down to our street. Just trying to do my part brother.


Jesse: Bull shit you don’t know the damn Mayor your drunk fat ass is just out of beer.

Tiny: Mowing the grass for the Mayor brother.

Jesse speeds up since a car was finally behind him and turned left to go to the house/shop.  A few minutes later Tracy putters up on the lawn mower which seemed like it was about to run out of gas and parked it by the shed. He took a case a beer into the house and came back out and put two cases in the fridge in the shop then handed Jesse and Keith a Miller High Life[3].

tiinyThe boys sat down and Jesse started in again. So you and the mayor have a deal huh? All Tiny would say was yep as he sucked the suds out of the golden can.  Jesse shook his head and said so if I call down to Mayor Frederick’s office on Monday he’ll confirm this deal you two have?  Tiny again with a “yep”.  Jesse looks and Keith and says he’s so full of shit. Keith, half mocking Tiny sucked some suds out of the beer and simply said “Yep”.

Needless to say this wasn’t the only time Jesse, Keith or any of their friends saw ole Tiny on his lawnmower mowing the side of Montclair Drive. Each time it happened they’d slow down and badger him. Each time he’d yell “Me and the Mayor got a deal!”  Sure you do Tiny, drink another one brother.






The Fucker Has Legs


Setting: Sunday September 25th 1991[1], Atlanta Fulton County Stadium

This story bookends the “L.A. Sucks, Tell him That!” entry.


After obtaining their tickets, they took off for the Stadium. Kelly, driving his mom’s minivan trying to get as close to Fulton County Stadium as possible. There was a lot across the street (Capitol Avenue), and it was $5.00 to park. They found a spot on the end which is usually safer in these types of lots. They park the van, get out and start heading towards the tunnel that goes under Capitol Avenue.


Outside of the entrance was a homeless & legless Vietnam veteran with a guitar case opened up taking donations and requests. Think Lt. Dan[2] from Forrest Gump[3] with a blanket over his amputated legs. They dropped some change, and a couple of bucks into the case, and Andrew said play Sweet Home Alabama[4], they turn into the tunnel and they hear his shaking hands clang against the out of tune guitar and the Skynard[5] tune fades the further into the tunnel.


The “L.A. Sucks Tell him that story” ended with Jesse picking up the clown wig from the guy Keith Planted in the ground. They are crossing back through the tunnel and when the exit they see that the homeless, leg less Lt. Dan look alike was standing up, folding up his blanket and about to pack his guitar into the case full of change and dollars. Andrew yells, “the fucker has legs” and runs up and gives the guitar case a kick, the change and money fly everywhere, you here the coins ting as the bounce off the cement and the boys take off for the minivan. Andrew is the last to make it and he’s out of breath yet still steamed over being hoodwinked out of a couple of bucks. He was likely just pissed that the guy thought of it before him.

So if you ever went to a Braves game, and crossed under the Capitol Avenue tunnel and saw what appeared to be a legless/homeless Vietnam Vet that looked like Lt. Dan, then there is a good chance the fucker had legs.







Keith goes to Self-Defense



Keith goes to Self Defense


Setting Aiken Technical College Winter Quarter 1992

Going to the local community college has its benefits. Keith coined the phrase “That it’s like high school but with a liquor license”, and that was a very accurate statement. It was a cheaper alternative than the state universities and far cheaper than the normally waste of money private colleges. At the end of the day you get the same credit, and save some money.

Another advantage is that you basically already knew a portion of the student body. Whether it’s guys and girls from your own high school, or those from a rival high school, you had friends that were there and of course you’d meet new people.

Well, one February, Keith, and Marty and a few other guys that they hung out with were in the cafeteria grabbing a bite to eat and playing spades[1]. The doors open and the wind blows a chill through the smoky room.  Keith is dipping his chicken tenders into a combination of ranch dressing and honey mustard when a small pair of hands wrap their way around his head and voice chirps “guess who”. Keith responds “It’s a God Damn Elephant”, the table erupts from remembering Keith tell a joke Aubrey Nevins (Kelly’s Dad), shared with a few of them.

Here it goes:

A queer walks into the bar, and says if anyone can guess what is in my hand, I’ll give them a blow job. This other homo speaks up in a deep voice and says “IT’S A GOD DAMN ELEPHANT”. The first guys proclaims “We have a winner!”

“It’s a God Damn Elephant”, and one of the hands comes off his eyes and pops him in the shoulder as Rosemary Brayton tells him to watch his language. Rosemary, two years younger, a peppy and perky cheerleader that Keith had fooled around with here and there back in high school. About 5’3”, 105 lbs, perky a cups and a natural light shade or red hair. The thought of Keith and her messing around is an odd thought. He had a foot and at least  150 lbs on her. He did always say that his cock looked bigger in her hands because they were smaller than most other girls.

Rosemary spins on to his lap and looks a bit like a hood ornament on his bulky frame and snags one of his chicken tenders. Then she asks him, “Will you do me a favor?”, not having a clue what she’s asking he’s hesitant to answer one way or another say he shares a simple “perhaps” followed by “what is it?”  In a please do this for me voice, “will you please come to my self-defense class with me”. He ponders what in the hell would she need him to go to a self-defense class with her for. She said their instructor said “to find a guy to bring to class for a demonstration”.

Marty looks over at Keith and says “Go ahead, that is when Missy Swain looks at Marty and asks “will you go with me?” Marty jokes and asks “are you going to buy me dinner”. Before all is said and done, Keith, Marty, Earl Charles, Todd Wedner, and Craig Street were drug to this “self-defense” class.


They are all sitting there like good little boys, when Dean Whitesell, the instructor, a former Marine that spent time in Vietnam and walked around campus like he was some kind of bad ass partially because he was the one that taught “Self-Defense 101”. The Lance Corporal stood about 5’9”, around 185 or so, in decent shape for a 50 something year old man, but most of the guys laughed at the way he strutted around campus.

Commander Whitesell is going on and on about the importance of a girl being able to defend herself. Hey it’s true. When placed in any form of a compromising situation they need to have some knowledge to get out of it. I’m sure he offered better advice than good ole Coach Buck Cone, back in high school. In 8th grade he’s was the Health & P.E Teacher before later moving back to the Science department, but back in 8th grade he literally told the girls that if they found themselves about to be raped to slow the guy down by acting into it and then biting the head of his penis as hard as they can and then running. I’m sure it would work in a lot of cases but not exactly the advice a high school teacher should be giving to a group of 8th graders.

Lieutenant Whitesell asks for a volunteer. Rosemary hops up with her typical perky enthusiasm, a bit annoying at times, but that was Rosemary. He nods for Keith to stand up, and he looks at Rosemary and says, “I’m going to have this guy, throw a punch at me and I’m going to show you how to defend it.”

Keith scoffs and laughs out loud a bit and says “you really want me to hit you?”  Whitesell, says “Yes, I want you to try to hit me”.  Keith looks over at the other guys and shakes his head and says “I don’t know about all this”. Whitesell says, “There is nothing to worry about, you won’t make contact, this is a self-defense class.”  By this point the 8 or so members of the faculty & staff along with a handful of students that were playing a pick-up game of basketball on the other end of the gym had stopped playing and started watching this demonstration.

Keith asks, “What happens when I hit you”, Whitesell says, “That’s not going to happen”. Whitesell gets into a defensive stance[2] and Keith lowers himself a bit, and brings his hands up in Rocky Balboa[3] fashion. He faints a jab with his left and delivers a right that smacks Whitesell right in the grill. The top of his knuckles crush his nose, the lower half make contact with his teeth/mouth as Whitesell stumbles back. Keith looks down at his right forearm and sees a scrape near the inside of his elbow, which was caused by Whitesell’s attempt to block the punch and his watch caught Keith’s forearm. The faculty members scramble to assist the stunned “Self-defense” instructor.  Mitch McJones, a college administrator dripping with sweat from playing hoops, dismisses the class as they try to stop Whitesell’s nose from bleeding all over the gym floor. Keith, Rosemary, and the rest of the group head back to the cafeteria. Rosemary’s half worried that this will affect her grade in a negative way, and everyone is telling her that she has nothing to worry about.

Marty looks at Keith and says “you knocked the fuck out of that little pussy”. Keith then notices that he has some blood on his fist where he made contact with some teeth. “Oh and it felt good” Keith responds to Marty with a shit eating grin[4] half a mile wide.

Fast forward to the next week and Private First Class Whitesell walks into the cafeteria, he doesn’t have that usual strut, but men wearing a pair of raccoon eyes, and a piece of tape across the bridge of their nose usually don’t strut or shake their tail feathers.





Andy’s Fake ID “Route 2 Raintree”

Andrew’s Fake ID “Route 2 Raintree”
Setting: Various locales circa 1992

Quite a few people have a true fake ID, one where you have your picture placed onto the plastic card with fictitious info. Nick Papagiorgio’s ID from Vegas Vacation[1] isn’t exactly a prime example either. Back in the day, most fake IDs were passed down older to younger brother, sometimes from a cousin, or at times, some people have a doppelganger[2], or something somewhat similar.

Andrew wanted a fake ID. Most 19-20 year olds wanted a fake ID. It was just easier to do considering not every town had a Wilfred[3]. Andrew played his fair share of golf, and for whatever reason, it certainly can’t be blamed on his eyesight, Andrew thought he looked enough like Mike Alberts, a fellow golfer, the manager at the local Wendy’s. A quick internet check  puts Alberts at 49/50 years old, so crunch the #’s 2014-1992= 22, Alberts was about 27/28 years old when Andrew gave him $20 for an old ID. These two individuals looked nothing alike. They both were white and male.

A Quick Look at the tale of the tape.


Not very close at all. Truth be told, out of this group, Alberts looked more like Josh Hubbard/Keith Singer hybrid. Somewhere in between.

Alberts told Andrew, “If you get caught you found it on the golf course”. Andrew nodded his head in agreement.

The ID worked sparingly. It worked better in dark musty clubs than the fluorescent lights of a grocery store. Most clerks likely didn’t give a shit about it, they were just punching the clock.

Oh, and just so it is noted, most of time when someone has/uses a fake ID, they do know the information, left to right, right to left, they dot the I’s and cross the T’s and they dot the T’s and cross the I’s. They make damn sure they know the information.

One weekend, Andrew, Keith and Jesse were in Orangeburg[4] visiting Marty Sherber while he was attending school at South Carolina State[5] GO BULLDOGS! The evening started out with some shots on the little balcony attached to Marty’s apartment. His roommate, Abe Markerson, a high energy, get on your nerves type from the same county that they grew up in was passing out the shots.

Andrew & Abe were starting to try to “out loud” each other, so Marty said let’s head on out to Columbia which had far more to offer than Orangeburg. Andrew and the group drove down in Andrew’s Blazer, yet Keith was the one with the duty of driving this moving party around. They were headed up I-26[6] and Marty told Keith to take exit 108-b and turn right and go down to Ruby Tuesday[7] so they could grab something to eat.

They pull into Miss Tuesday’s parking lot and it looked pack, and Abe made the comment “Do you guys just want to go somewhere else where it’s less packed. Jesse looks at Abe and says “are you scared of a little crowd and some ass rubbing up on ya?” Abe stumbled and stammered and said “no”. They go in, and Marty sees a girl from campus and puts in his name & party of 5, and she says it will be a 35-45 minute wait. Do you guys want to go the car? Of course they want to go to the bar. At this point, Marty is the only one that is legal to drink. Jesse, Andrew, and Keith are 20, Jesse turning 21 on Christmas day, and Abe was either 18 or 19. He was the youngest.

The plan was for Marty & Andrew to buy the drinks and sorta pass them to everyone else, since Marty was legal and Andrew had the other ID. Abe was about too scared to drink, but then again his older brother was in training to be South Carolina State trooper. Keith went to the bathroom, came up to the other side of the bar where a young blonde waitress asked what he was drinking. He said, “I’ll have a shot of Jack Daniels[8] and a Miller Lite[9].” She simply said that will be 5 bucks (damn those were the days), $1.00 for the beer and 4.00 for the shot. He handed her a Lincoln[10], stuffed a George[11] in the tip jar.

Keith took his shot and walked back over to the group. Marty had just downed a shot of his own and was sipping on a Budweiser[12] as Andrew started to order. Let me get a shot of Jack & a Michelob Light[13]. The bartender that just served Marty without a hint of question asks Andrew for some identification. He looks at her and say “Thank you, I enjoy showing my ID, it makes me feel young again.” She strains smile back at him and reaches into his pants whips out his money clip and holds the ID up for her. She peers in. Simply looks at him and says “that’s not you”.  “That’s me up one side & down the other he bellows as the sweats starts to bead around his brow. “Uh huh”. What’s your birthday? “12-6-64” ok, what’s your street address?  “Route 2 Raintree” the rest of it? “Route 2 Raintree” Like I said Honey this ain’t you. Andrew pulls it back. “Fuck this place, the dumb bitch can’t read”. Excuse me she says as Marty says “Easy Andy”. Jesse and Keith apologize to her and says he’s had a few already anyway, he’ll be fine, and she says he’ll be leaving or I’ll call the police.

She was right, he was leaving and so was the rest of the crew. Laws are laws and even a 200 tab out of 5 guys wasn’t worth their liquor license.

They crawl back into the Blazer, and it is rare for the owner to sit in the back seat of his own car, but when Marty’s 6’5” there aren’t many options unless you can really spread out, and with the Jesse and Abe back there that wasn’t going to happen. Keith then lays it on Andrew. “How the hell you do fuck up the street address”. “God Dammit Keith he lives on Route 2 Raintree” Andrew scoffs back at him. Jesse joins in by asking to see the ID, Andrew pries an elbow into Jesse as he reaches into the pocket. Jesse was sitting in the middle part of the back seat since he was the smallest of the trio in the back seat. Jesse looks at it and says “ROUTE 2 BOX 310 RAINTREE DRIVE” “DUMB ASS!” Andrew still argues that he got it right. Then Jesse ads, “this doesn’t look a damn thing like you.” “FUCK OFF”, is Andrew’s reply.

IMG_20110226_122410They go on bar, a small, family owned Ribs place, where they don’t have liquor drinks and they serve each beer in a brown paper bag like the good ole days and the ribs and fixins come served on an Styrofoam plate like an after church cookout. They eat their share of ribs, and go through about a case of beer collectively and then head off into the Columbia night to see what she has in store for them.images

They go to a dance club which was a waste of a $5.00 cover charge because there wasn’t going to be much dancing, but it was still too early to call it a night. The neon green bracelets around their wrist signified that they were under age, and there was a group of what appeared to be 40 something cougars approaching them, but hearing Andrew still bitching about the CUNT at Ruby Tuesday made their stay a short one. One lingered around Jesse & Keith enough to tease them by saying, that “I would have taught you two a thing or two”. Jesse about 3/4th blitzed said “I doubt that”, and Keith looked at her and said “2 on 1, you’ll walk home funny”. She winked and vanished with the rest of her pack. She was about 5’7, curves in the right spot, black hair, in the smoke filled bar you couldn’t quite tell what color her eyes were, but it would have been interesting.8289733726_b2a8b5fba9_z

The clock strikes 12 and Andy is like let’s blow this joint, so they crawl back into the Blazer and Keith pulls to the end of the parking lot and says which way. Marty says take a right. Andy yells his once famous “Take me to some Titties”, and Marty’s like “gotcha covered partner”. Marty goes up to the door and asks to speak to Maurice. Maurice was a bouncer that could stand eye to eye with Marty but was rather skinny. He might have weight 2bucks[14] in a rainstorm.  Marty comes back they walk around to the back of the building, Marty asks for a 10 from each of them then gives the 50 bucks to Maurice as he sneaks them in a back door. Andy’s like I’ll stay right here as she sees the opening to the dressing room. Marty is like “come on fat ass!”

They go up and beside one of the side changes, and a girl comes by to take their drink order, they all order a shot of Jack with 4 flavors of beer, since Abe was drinking the same Budweiser as Marty. Jesse called Abe “Marty’s new puppy”, the way he followed him around.

A new song comes on.

“Oh my God Becky look at her But”, Sir-Mix-A-lot’s[15] hit song “Baby Got Back[16]” rings through the club’s sound system. Andy’s dancing in his chair at this point and Jesse looks over and says “you better take it easy on that chair or we will be picking your ass up.” “Fuck you Little”, Andy says back to him. It’s funny with guys, they can call you by your first name, your last name, a nick name, Dipshit, dickhead or whatever, and it’s all good.


Jesse then looks over to the main stage, and he’s like that girl looks like Lindsay Friedman. Andy says “By God that is Lindsay Friedman”, Marty asks Keith, didn’t you take her to the prom. Keith doesn’t confirm or deny it one way or another but said he had more fun the weekend of his junior year prom which was a combination of track & field regionals and camping trip with Marty, Frederick Slesson Jr. and Jackson Dillard.  Abe, who went to a different high school joins in and says “don’t feel bad Keith, it will make a nice story to tell your kids, that you took a stripper to the prom.”  Yeah Abe, “that’s one to write the fuck home about.”

Tonight appearing on the center stage for the first time wearing a fuchsia ensemble is Passion!  Keith mumbles “she would wear that God Damn ugly color” (more on that later)

Andy walks up for a closer look. She waves then steps her high heel on his shoulder and pumps her hips at him a bit. He puts some green paper in her garter, knowing him it could have been a $ 1 or even more if he hit the ATM with his Daddy’s or Granddaddy’s credit card. He’s mesmerized. A girl he went to high school with is stripping right there in front of him. She finishes her trio of songs “2 Legit 2 Quit[17]”, “I’m too sexy”[18], and “Jump[19]”. Andrew comes back to the group and he’s like she’s going to meet us in the parking lot with some friends after they close.

This will be finished in “Taking Strippers Home Part 2”.




[3] Old man that would sell beer or anything to anyone.











[14] 2oo lbs






Easton vs. Smith & Wesson

eastonSetting: A&D parking lot approximately December 1992

Again boys will be boys and at times trouble can find them when they aren’t even really looking for it.

On this cold, calm Carolina night, Keith(90), Andrew(90), Marty (89) & Ted Sherber (91) were sitting in the back of the truck owned by the Sherber boys father, Marty Sr.  Herbie Branson (91) was with them and he was picking on a guitar and the collection of non-singers were butchering everything from Hank Jr[1] and Tom Petty[2] down to AC/DC[3] with a little Springsteen[4] and the Eagles[5] thrown in.  A couple of guys from the class of 88, Todd Wedner and Craig Street, they went to the local community college with most of these guys. They had pulled up to see what was shaking at the A&D parking lot which bordered Burger Chef.

This A&D parking lot served as over-flow parking for the Chef on the weekends/game nights since the gas station/offices were closed during the evening & nights.

The guys were just sitting there listening to Herbie strum along to the guitar and drinking some suds, when a car sped by and yelled out “You Suck”, the loud and resounding response was “Fuck You”, even though there were 3-4 responses shouted out at the car. You hear tires screech and an engine whine and this little mid 80’s RX-7 pulls in and its two guys that went to a rival high school and played and were the same age as Keith & Andrew.


One of them leaned out the window and said what the hell did you say, not quite sure that it was a group of 7 that they had pulled into. Again there were 3-4 responses but the resounding one was again FUCK YOU.

The driver pulled a baseball bat out of the back seat and said. “Ain’t you boys ever heard of an Easton[6]? Todd Wedner, pulls a gun from his side holds it up and says “Ain’t you faggots ever heard of a Smith & Wesson[7]”? Needless to say there were more sounds of screeching tires as that RX-7 did its best to get out of the parking lot as soon as fucking possible.

The group all laughed as Todd put the gun back to his side. Todd, a former football player that did his first 4 years after high school in the Marines[8] simply said, “A baseball bat isn’t a match for a 9”. Everyone agreed and Herbie went on to the next tune. Ladies & Gentleman. David Allan Coe[9].