The end is near. I can feel it. I am not even thirty yet but I think that the inevitable is calling. Why else would memories of my past suddenly flash into my head? Lately out of the blue, random memories will hit me for no reason. That’s why I think I am going to die pretty soon. In a way it seems like it’s my own personal life highlight reel. I just wish I would have taken more pictures along the way. It’s gotten to the point where I am listening to nonstop 80’s music. I didn’t even listen to Flock of Seagulls when I was a chavalo and now I do…that’s right I Ran, So Far Away. I am regressing. I am hitting a quarter or is it third life crisis. It’s like I don’t want to let go of the past. If I had money to play with I would splurge on a VW Passat…ya know the one where you can cool your sushi in the glove compartment, simply awesome. Can you imagine the possibilities?
This morning I woke up and memories of watching fireworks in the skies over Fairfax, Virginia filled my head. It was ’94, I was a band geek, and one hundred fifty of us took off on a school sponsored tour of the east coast (Boston, D.C., New York, Fairfax, Philly). It was fun times. One of our stops was D.C. We were staying a few blocks from RFK and the World Cup was in full force. We even got a commemorative stamp with the “Pibe” Valderrama on it (think Sideshow Bob) . I think it was a 25 cent stamp at the time (the worst part is that I don’t remember if I kept it or I used it). On this trip everything seemed so right, so carefree. How I made it ten days on fifty dollars is beyond me. One of the only negatives was staying with four people to a room…that and watching one the roomies dry himself off after a shower with a hand cloth. This was the same person that loved to leave the door open while he went number-two. It’s a hotel room for crying out loud! I really don’t know how girls can like boys. We do some sick stuff. Who hasn’t farted beneath the covers and fanned the stench away with their blanket (Cherry!).
One of my favorite memories of the trip was on the Forth of July in Fairfax Virginia (that and playing at the Kennedy Center), where we watched one of the best fireworks displays ever. I am sure it wasn’t the pyrotechnics but rather hanging out with your high school friends. For many of us the reality was setting in that this was one of our last times together. It’s true,…todo lo que empieza en algún momento se tiene que acabar.
Another memory that always comes to mind, especially since I have pretty much lost track of these friends that at one point were like brothers is the following juvenile delinquent bonding experience.
Living in Porterville is not very exciting, especially as a high school kid, consequently you had to look hard for things to keep you occupied. You couldn’t cruise it on Olive St. because you didn’t have a nice ride (no ’64 Impala…ya know you wanted one back in the 90’s) so we had to settle on S’s mom’s look-a-like cop car. Only in Porterville do you cruise in the winter time with the car windows rolled down and the heater at full blast.
On one occasion a classmate invited us to her house way up in Sequoia National Forest. About a two and a half hour drive to be exact. We got to W’s house and we saw those familiar looking plants that soothed the pain of a famous Cucaracha that couldn’t walk. At the time I didn’t drink and much less be around everyone’s favorite Mary Jane. I was basically freaking out. “Hey can, uh, we go now?” It wasn’t like I could just walk back home. To make matters worse W began to play Danzig, crazy devil music that still haunts me to this day. I didn’t listen to rock music back in the day. All I listened to was gangsta’ rap and stuff like Jodeci, Babyface and Boyz II Men. What the hell happened to me?? I know. Anyhow we passed the time driving W’s ‘77 bigfoot suburban and shooting at things with her dad’s guns.
On the drive back into town we thought of ways to make the most of what was a Saturday night. What the hell were we going to do? “Uh, what if we go egging?” That’s how the O.E. crew was created. We proclaimed ourselves to be Original Eggers. People have been wanting to know for ten years what O.E. stood for. There it is. The secret is out. Freaking ridiculous I know!
We stopped at a convenience store, bought like 4 dozen eggs. The cashier knew our intentions right away. After he bagged our blanquillos he warned us “Ya’ll don’t get caught now!”
We first scoped out the house of one of the most infamous girls at our school. She scared and excited G and I with the immortalized phrase “Do you want some of this?!?” pointing to a place that adolescents only dream about. But I digress, we hit the lights, rolled up and three of us jumped out with the fourth person as the getaway driver. We blasted her house, pounding it with at least six huevos. We quickly jumped back in the car. We experienced that laughter where you can’t even catch your breath and you laugh so much you get the hiccups. Who could we hit next? R popped in Ice Cube’s “GhettoBird” in the tape deck and we decided to roll up on a cross-rival high school party. The bastards at Monache had to pay. In our eyes they were the rich privileged kids while those at PUHS were the poor kids that didn’t get any respect. As we parked down the street we could see and hear that the party was good. The music was loud and cars that belonged to moms and dads were parked all the way around the block. We started up the engine, turned off the lights gangsta style, and drove to the spot. As we approached we could see a couple of party goers making out on the lawn next the curb. We quickly locked on to our targets and BAM! We started egging the house and of course the horny couple. The funny thing was the guy on top was too drunk to realize what was happening. To this day I think of this and I cant help but laugh.
Sometimes I wonder why I share all these memories. I guess it’s just fun to do so. Todos vivemos de recuerdos y el recordar es vivir. Perhaps that is why. And “no” I am not going to die…yet.
