A Boomer Year

A Boomer Year

“Hey, hurry up down there….it’s just about time…” Her voice drifted down the staircase derailing my train of thought.

I stole a glance at the reflection in the mirror. I shook my head in disbelief. You made it through another one, you ole fart!

The clock continued to tick away to the midnight hour, yet I stood staring at the image before me lost in yesterday.

I truly never imagined getting this far…stumbling down the back roads toward my fiftieth birthday. A freakin’ half century.

The nacho dip and the half-dozen beers suddenly overcame me. I belched and closed my eyes.

“Are you coming?” The female voice assaulted my ears, yet it seemed to be the voice of my Mother.

I opened my eyes in puzzlement and there staring back at me was a much younger, thinner and hairier me.

Thirty-three years and eighty pounds had been shed and a mane of hair stretched along the nape of my neck continuing down my back.

“Be right there.” I yelled back and bounded through the pantry and into the kitchen of my childhood home.

“Hey, Stretch.” Dan sat at the kitchen table watching my entrance. We had met the past summer at a camp ground up North. We populated the beach during the day and partied at various camp sites during the night. Although Dan was older than me by about six years, we had become fast friends and now I was spending most weekends at his place. His father owned a service station on the highway and, on Saturdays, I’d pump gas and help with oil changes for a few bucks an hour. His father was grateful for the help and I was grateful for the drinking money the work provided to complete the weekend frivolity.

Dan was doing the perfect impersonation of Eddie Haskell with my mother. Ah, the perfect gentleman, yet

I knew him so much better. The minute we head out that door to the car, he becomes the foul-mouthed dick that I’ve come to know and love.

“Well, you ready to roll?” He rose and started heading for the door.

As he was turning the knob on the front door, he turned. “It’s been a pleasure seeing you again, Mrs. Roberts. I’ll have Stretch back on Sunday afternoon with plenty of time to do his homework.” I swear

I saw a sparkle on his teeth as he smiled sweetly.

“Okay, you two. Have fun.” She leaned upward and kissed me on the cheek. “Drive carefully, Dan.”

Strolling to Dan’s VW Beetle, Dan said, “Well, whassup now?”

“Let’s just start rollin’ toward your place and go from there.”

Once in the car, he turned to me. “Hungry?”

“Damn-near starved.” I replied.

“Don’t you ever eat, for Christ sake?”

“Mom and I have varying definitions of cooked.”

He looked at me puzzled as I continued, “Her definition of cooked is well-done while I call it fuckin’ burnt.” I continued, “If it wasn’t for Dave and Russ down the street, I’d starve to death, but it takes impeccable timing on my part.”

Dan was staring at me as he pushed in the clutch and shifted into Reverse. “What are you talking about?”

“You see, we eat around 5 o’clock each night, right?”

“Yeah. So what?”

“I nibble a few pieces, eat a few veggies and some potatoes and call her quits. Tell Mom I’m

heading down the street to the Little’s for a few hours.”

“Is there a point?”

“The Little’s usually eat about 6 and Mrs. Little cooks a shit load of food and doesn’t like leftovers.

Soooo…I get me a decent meal”

“Jesus, you’re an asshole” was all I heard Dan say as we began our drive to his place.

“If you can hold out till we get around my place, we’ll hit the Bee-Hive, grab a bite and then move on from there.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“How’s school going?” Dan asked.

If it was anyone else, I would think them making small talk, but I knew that Dan had dropped out of high school in Grade 10. In many ways, I thought it a sour spot with him, yet every time we got together he would ask me this question. Deep down, I felt that he wanted to return to get his high school diploma, but didn’t know quite how to go about it.

Tonight, I didn’t feel much like talking about school. Hell, it was the weekend and a time to party!

“The only thing of interest this week was Cindy’s short skirts,” I said jokingly.

“Oh” was his only reply.

More silence until I looked at Dan saying quietly, “Sorry, Dan.”

He smiled and seemed to read my mind. “Just wanna party, don’t you?” Then he muttered under his breath,

“You dumb shit.”

The Bee-Hive was just as it sounded. It was a circular-shaped burger joint with the grille in the middle of the place and surrounded by tables for its patrons. Each table had its own little juke box crammed with tunes. It seemed that it never closed. It had become our favourite pre-and post-drinking place. That is a place to fill up on food so the beer would go down much better and in greater quantities and, of course, a place to fill up with coffee before venturing back into his house for a few hours of sleep before gearing up for another round.

A burger and fries followed by a short drive downtown found us at Robert’s Tavern. We sat at the bar checking out the scenery. And on this Friday night, there seemed to be plenty of it.

I suddenly get the sensation that I’m being watched. I look down to the end of the bar to see a lady eyeing me. I smile, put my beer bottle down on the bar and head for the men’s room.

“Christ, it took you long enough.” A voice greeted me as I headed back toward the bar to retrieve my beer. “Wanna move along, little doggie?”

“We just got here, Dan.” I looked around. The lady at the bar had disappeared.

“Oh, yeah, about four beers ago…You haven’t quite caught on to the concept yet, have you?”

“Concept of what?”

“Bar-hopping. It means you move from bar to bar to bar. Now let’s get the hell outta here. I’ll go get the Bug.”

Outside the tavern, I waited patiently for Dan to bring the Bug around. I can’t seem to recall where we parked. I feel a presence and look beside me. The lady from the bar is standing beside me with a sheepish grin plastered across her face.

“Hi, big boy!” She belches drunkenly. “Ya know I like my men young.” She attempts a laugh,

but it comes out more like a nasty smokers’ cough.

I look both ways down the street, not knowing where Dan would be coming from. Her comment didn’t deserve a reply.

The lady flops sideways against me in a rather ungraceful manner and smiles up at me.

Jesus, Dan, would you hurry up, I think to myself. I don’t really know what to do at this point. If I move away, she’s likely to fall flat on her face to the sidewalk, but I’ll be damned if I want this woman leaning on me.

Suddenly, the door of the bar bursts open and I’m staring into a scruffy face about two inches from my nose.

“What the hell are you doing, asshole?” He asks as he leans even closer.

“Just waiting for my friend,” I respond very quietly.

“Real good answer, dickhead.” He points at the lady who is now running her hand up the inside of my thigh and staring up at me with a dumbass grin. “Whatcha doin’ with my woman?”

“I think it’s more what she’s doin’ to me.” I blurted it out before I realized that Scruff here could very well clean the sidewalk with my long moppish hair if he so desired. “Listen, man, I’m just standing here waiting for my buddy and she came out pissed out of her skull and started coming onto me….”

Scruff looks at the lady who has suddenly straighten herself up and regained her composure. “The little bastard dragged me out here saying he wanted some action.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dan’s light blue Bug roaring down the sidewalk. Scruff turns to watch the spectacle and I take the opportunity to dive to my right and around Scruff before he realizes what’s going on. The passenger door of the Bug flies open and I dive to grab a hold of the door. I am suddenly being dragged down the sidewalk as Dan tries to dodge the parking meters and the parked cars to get back on the street. Scruff has managed to grab my leg and is attempting to turn me into a Stretch Armstrong doll.

Defying all odds and logic, Dan reaches across the passenger seat and grabs my left arm, tugging violently to get me into the vehicle. Scruff is bouncing behind me now, refusing to let go of my leg.

Half in and half out of the Bug, I pull myself into the cab using the hand brake. With a vicious kick, I manage to lose Scruff . I grab the handle of the flailing door when Dan finally seizes the chance to get off the sidewalk and back into the street. The sideways lurch of the vehicle causes the door to slam shut and catches me in the right temple.

“Jesus, are you okay?” I hear a female voice ask. I feel myself being gently shaken.

Through my daze, I look up at five faces staring back down at me, just as bewildered as I was at that particular moment.

I’m helped to my feet as the neighbour mumbles “god damned drunk” under his breath, with a smile.

“Happy freakin’ New Year, honey,” Linda says. “And the first order of business next week is to get you to the doctor about these blackouts.”

“It’s just the booze,” I mumble. “No big deal.”