It's been a while since I posted sequential chapters from my book about PSU in the 80s; Men of the Skull. These two are short and related, so I combined them (as I would if I were to publish this.
George generously gave me permission to use his name (one of only two brave souls to do so.) We're still great friends all these years later, and he has been very supportive of my transition. And- he's a member of this group.
I was a very mentally wounded person back then, and very unsure of myself, especially in relationships. My relationship with "Virginia" was only my second long lasting one, and my first, um, sexual one. At the beginning of these chapters, she and her mother have left for a several week trip to Florida.
Another bit; I mention my James Bond image. I grew up wanting to emulate Bond ("he's a REAL man!"), so I wanted to learn to dance, make drinks, drive defensively (or offensively), etc. Eventually, I took ballroom dance class, I already had defensive (stunt-ish) driving class, so now it was time to learn drinks. I just wish someone would've shown me how to dress fashionably, as I was (and still am) a mess.
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Chapter 2.69: George
Monday, May 18, 1987 U.S. Ship is Attacked in Gulf
Yeah
I missed her but that wasn’t it. Last
time a girlfriend went away for a trip it was Julianne and she cheated on me. Would
Wait-
this was a whole different thing.
Julianne was in high school. I
may have been in college when that happened, but she still in high school as
was the relationship. This relationship
with
So
would she stay faithful?
Did
I mention how fucked up my mind was at that time?
Anyway,
I had something to take my mind off it.
I saw an ad in the Pottstown Mercury for
This
fit right into my whole “James Bond” image thing. A man should know how to mix drinks. Besides, I could get a job at one of
I
had a little savings left so I paid up and that night drove up the road to
First
thing I noticed when I walked in- no chairs.
There were a lot of fake bars made of stainless steel. Each one had room for two people. I stood at one hoping a cute girl would
partner with me. That would make things
more fun.
The
room filled quickly. One of the guys
wore a Kelly green t-shirt with yellow lettering that said “Lambda Chi Melon
Bust” over some kind of yellow stenciled picture. A fellow Greek! He came in with a cute girl and partnered
with her. The room filled until the only
empty spot was the one next to me. That
sure helped my self esteem.
The
instructor stepped out of a side room.
He was a little shorter than me, with brown hair parted to the side and
a cheesy moustache. He had sleepy eyes,
was just a bit overweight, figure he was around forty, and he wore black pants,
white tuxedo shirt and a black bow tie.
He looked like the bartender in every movie you’ve ever seen.
He
introduced himself as Paul Mernoff, Instructor for Bartender Excaliber, and
gave us an overview of his qualifications:
AC, Vegas,
He
started with basics and built from there.
(Whoever designed this course knew what they were doing.) We poured colored water into glasses with
fake plastic ice cubes. “Seeing the
proper drink color is important.”
At
the end of the night’s lessons, I walked over to the green shirted guy. He was shorter than me- maybe five foot
seven. He was slim but cut- obviously
strong. His face was cherubic, with big
blue eyes, rosy cheeks and a perpetual smile.
His wavy blonde hair may as well have been a halo.
“Hey
Lambda Chi! What campus?” I asked.
“
I
smiled. “I’m a Skull at
“George”
he said, offering his hand and visibly less tense. “You can’t be a Skull, you’re too fucking
thin!”
“I
transferred from Drexel.”
“That
explains that. Hey, I gotta go,” George
said. “Team up next week?”
“Sure!”
So
George left, and I wandered out into the humid night to my Mustang and…
FUCK!
I
locked the fucking keys in the God damned car!
Chapter 2.70: Kamikazes
Monday, June 15, 1987 Arms pact reportedly is at hand
So it was the last
bartending class. The idea was that each
team of students would bring alcohol and make one kind of drink. Then, we would all sample each other’s
drinks. Not really a final exam, but
sort of. More of a pride thing.
Lambda Chi George,
myself, and this one blond had been a team for a while. We decided to make Kamikazes! He said he’d bring the vodka, she brought
triple sec and all I needed to do was buy the damn lime juice (as I was still
underage.) Simple enough, right?
Of course I
forgot.
So I arrived early
to class just to have George ream me out a bit.
I ran across a road and a parking lot to a grocery store to pick up the
juice. Felt like a fucking idiot. I returned sweaty and out of breath just as
class was starting.
Every group was
doing simple shit like martinis and screwdrivers. We did Kamikazes that had three
ingredients. Yeah- go us!
George brought a
yellow plastic cocktail shaker from homecoming last year. So as Paul said “ReadyReady!” and called out
a drink for us to make, George was loudly shaking kamikazes. Never mind that you really don’t need to
shake kamikazes.
“Readyready:
vodka martini rocks with a twist.”
SHAKESHAKESHAKE
Soon,
Paul figured out that the class was descending into chaos. Oh well.
Everyone drink and enjoy!
“Are
you going to be good to drive home?”
Paul asked George.
“Sure,
no problem!” George replied, and gave
him a kamikaze I made.
Damn
good one too.
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