Originally Posted on May 6, 2007 at 3:35 PM
I fuckin miss that shit….
You ever miss the “good ol’ days” ? I’m talking the days where you could wake up at 7:45, throw jeans and a t-shirt on and still be at school by 8. Hit the bathroom right away for your morning cig, the occasional thermos o’ Bud, then go to homeroom to listen to those ridiculous morning announcements. “Today is (insert scumbag’s name here) birthday! Please be sure to wish (him/her) a happy birthday if you see him in the halls!”. Umm, yea, fuck (insert scumbag’s name here too). Ya know what, junior and senior year, they forgot my birthday until two weeks later. Two years in a row, so fuck ’em. After school, it was time to go to Lucky Strike Lanes, where I spent my younger years. My brother, and one or two of my sisters used to hang out there, back when the “Heads” ran the area. Of course they ran the area, they were the only fucking gang in my town, ever, until the Latin Kings migrated to somewhere not too far away and started coming around to our spot. But the Kings were cool with me, so I didn’t bother them. Anyway, I guess I inherited my “alley rat” habits from a sibling, but man, I hung out there from around 11 years old until they closed, about a year and a half ago. The times I had girlfriends I could be found there less and less, but 90% of those years was spent there. Either shooting pool, hittin on girls, smoking cigs, playing video games, hanging out in the bar when we weren’t “of age” yet…never bowling of course. Actually, bowling was on Saturday mornings from around 10 – 12 or 1. It may sound stupid, or delinquent, and a lot of the time, it was. But that place was our place. All, probably 15-20, of us that hung out there regularly, that was our place. I spent more time on various Christmas Day’s sitting out front on the stoop there than I probably spent with my family on Christmas after exchanging gifts in the morning. And when I turned 21, I’d go drink there almost every day, at least get a beer or two on a workday. When that place was destroyed and torn down, I literally lost a piece of myself. That was my escape. Shit was going bad, or I was depressed, or pissed off, or whatever the deal was, I went up to the alley’s and hung out for hours at a time. I miss that place. Lost some friends there too. Brian Fitzsimmons, who we would jokingly call bum. He was a good guy, despite being drunk every time we saw him. He got bombed one night, and passed out on the railroad tracks behind the building, and got run down during the night by an Amtrak. When I got the phone call from another friend, Jason, the next morning, we went to check out the site. There’s probably still blood stains there, it was sick to look at. That was bad man, tough to deal with. He was a real good dude. We had some fun times up there. Pat from the Pro Shop, he was a real cool dude also. He used to teach me pointers and techniques about bowling all the time. He even made my bowling ball, which was a white and blue 8-pounder. I bought it at the Pro Shop and Pat drilled the finger holes and engraved it for me. Irv was a good man too. He was the owner. He was an elderly guy, sometimes pissed off that we hung out there so much, and threw us out a lot. Hell one time I said damn, and he was furious at me because I cursed. I was playing Mortal Kombat with Brian Roth when he yelled at me. But overall he was just a guy trying to keep his business going. When Irv died, I was shocked. He was a tough man, and a good person. So much fun shit happened there man, it was a real cool group to be a part of. I remember one time when Dave Falotico was bothering me and Andy Price, so Andy took Dave’s housekeys and dropped them into one of those crane machines with the joystick on it. The back of the machine had a real tiny hole in it where they’d keep the lock to open the back when they needed to refill it. Andy jimmy’ed the lock out of the way and threw Dave’s keys in there. It took Dave close to $12, at 25 cents a try, before he finally gave up and asked Dane, one of the guys who worked there, to unlock the machine and get his keys back. Another time we were picking on Dave, we found where he hid his bicycle (he used to leave it out front like everyone else, until his ended up on the roof a few times, and in some dumpsters, or with slashed tires), and we didn’t just slash his tires, we completely cut them off. Funny shit haha Another time, me and Andy took that thick silver duct tape and taped Kenny Ferber to one of the pillars/posts outside the Emerson Movie Theater, then when the cops came and made us cut the tape, we re-taped him and rolled him around the parking lot. One Saturday during our bowling league, Andy had a roll of black electrical tape, a big thick roll of it. We took Dave Falotico’s 10-speed and taped it to a telephone pole, about 30 wraps around from on top of a pickup truck, so we knew he wouldn’t be able to get it down without help. Oh man what about the time that three of us pushed a full dumpster off a cliff behind the building. What a fucking LOUD bang crash that fucker made. It was probably 30 seconds later, cop sirens were blaring all over town. And they came right to us at the Lanes. Haha me and Kenny Ferber had to hide….you know on the undercarriage of an 18-wheeler they have that kind of ‘cage’ that holds the spare tire…Kenny and I had to hide in those things and hold ourselves up while the cops drove by for about 25 minutes with spotlights all over. They never found us, but we were fuckin scared. Haha I was probably about 15 at that point. Then there’s the day that we lit the UPS mailbox on fire. Hahaha that was some exciting shit…. I could go on and on for days with stories of growing up and being a stupid little fucking punk kid but I won’t bore you with any more of this…
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