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12.14.2008
Nights in Snow Driven Haze
Outworlder Materialized
It was a gloomy winter night at ‘Tidewaters’ on Atlantic Avenue in East Rockaway. The owner, who I’ll call Sam Slick, had owned other bars in Valley Stream and Rockville Centre, had a way of pissing off his bartenders and janitor.
His bartender at the time was a young Yaega Lee and a long haired, wooley faced, mildly psychotic, redneck country dude who did clean up and whatever else needed to be done, including backing up the bartender.
The janitor was not happy with Sam Slick and let him know he was incredibly depressed about how he was being treated and how he was being paid. The janitor also let Sam Slick know he didn’t like the way Yaega was being treated either. The janitor had his hair braded in Rasta style corn rows and wore black army boots, usually covered in shit from the overflowing toilets at ‘Tidewaters’. After that long night the janitor got on the phone with Sam Slick and the conversation went something like this:
“Sam, I’ve worked for you off and on for years, you talk about me like a piece of shit to all your so called friends, I get treated like a fucking leper in the place I work and you can’t even call me by my name when I’m working…I’m a man, not a thing! Fuck you Sam, fuck this bar and screw your coke snorting friends. After tonight you will never treat me like this again. I’ll fix you.” Sam heard what sounded like sobbing and his sadistic streak flared up.
Sam screamed into the phone trying to be heard over the jukebox, “Fuck you, you goddamed ingrate, I’ll see you in the morning and you’ll get everything you got coming you fucking long haired hippie freak…go back to the 60’s where you belong.” Sam was irate, that janitor got under his skin and he was going to make him sweat for his money. Sam was gonna fix this asshole. It was 3:30 AM.
When Sam walked into Tidewaters just after dawn, the bar was in a shambles, empty beer bottles were all over the place, broken glass was on the floor and the radio was blasting heavy metal mind bending sound. Sam was pissed and started walking behind the bar when he found the note. “Tell them all I love them, you’ll never screw me again….goodbye!” It was the smell that attracted Sam to the back area. That got him running, his eyes took it in and his face went pale.
The lifeless body hung from the dog chain noose, the cornrows, ponytail and shit stained boots left no doubt that it was Sam’s distraught janitor, N.F., hanging from the neck. Yaega had come in the bar behind Sam and walked to the back and saw N.F.’s dangling body hanging from a dog chain, she screamed. “Do something Sam, get him down, get him down, shouted Yaega. Sam who pissed himself, cringed as he put his arms around the lifeless corps and lifted it up.
The cornrow wig fell off, and the chain gave way from the loose pvc pipe, the stuffed coat revealed the blow up doll covered in garden manure, the real looking human face mask on the dummy had a note on the forehead “Look What You’ve Done”. The laughter from a hiding place and the half empty bottle of ice cold Heineken was enough. Sam was the victim of N.F.’s vengeance. Yaega laughed hysterically. (Sam Slick squared it with N.F.)
Lets fast forward to the here and now.
N.F. has a long history to those who have been part of the bar scene in the late 90’s and early 2K’s. He disappeared in the woods of Upstate N.Y. in a move that was staged from several locations including Bears Garage. After one warm autumn a few years passed, he left “downstate” swearing not to return if he could help it. An event came up and he couldn’t help being at, so he materialized.
Extraterrestrials were meeting in a hangar at Kennedy Airport to discuss migration, logistics and disbursements for outworlders working on earth during a recent Sunday past. N.F. came in the Saturday Night before(Dec. 6) to catch up with old friends. The only one to show up on that snowy Saturday Night was Yaega Lee. The three of us were at ‘Game On’ talking the night away and catching up on life. All in all, a good time. There are other bar stories about N.F. and the outworlders to be blogged about in another time, maybe another place.
The janitor was not happy with Sam Slick and let him know he was incredibly depressed about how he was being treated and how he was being paid. The janitor also let Sam Slick know he didn’t like the way Yaega was being treated either. The janitor had his hair braded in Rasta style corn rows and wore black army boots, usually covered in shit from the overflowing toilets at ‘Tidewaters’. After that long night the janitor got on the phone with Sam Slick and the conversation went something like this:
“Sam, I’ve worked for you off and on for years, you talk about me like a piece of shit to all your so called friends, I get treated like a fucking leper in the place I work and you can’t even call me by my name when I’m working…I’m a man, not a thing! Fuck you Sam, fuck this bar and screw your coke snorting friends. After tonight you will never treat me like this again. I’ll fix you.” Sam heard what sounded like sobbing and his sadistic streak flared up.
Sam screamed into the phone trying to be heard over the jukebox, “Fuck you, you goddamed ingrate, I’ll see you in the morning and you’ll get everything you got coming you fucking long haired hippie freak…go back to the 60’s where you belong.” Sam was irate, that janitor got under his skin and he was going to make him sweat for his money. Sam was gonna fix this asshole. It was 3:30 AM.
When Sam walked into Tidewaters just after dawn, the bar was in a shambles, empty beer bottles were all over the place, broken glass was on the floor and the radio was blasting heavy metal mind bending sound. Sam was pissed and started walking behind the bar when he found the note. “Tell them all I love them, you’ll never screw me again….goodbye!” It was the smell that attracted Sam to the back area. That got him running, his eyes took it in and his face went pale.
The lifeless body hung from the dog chain noose, the cornrows, ponytail and shit stained boots left no doubt that it was Sam’s distraught janitor, N.F., hanging from the neck. Yaega had come in the bar behind Sam and walked to the back and saw N.F.’s dangling body hanging from a dog chain, she screamed. “Do something Sam, get him down, get him down, shouted Yaega. Sam who pissed himself, cringed as he put his arms around the lifeless corps and lifted it up.
The cornrow wig fell off, and the chain gave way from the loose pvc pipe, the stuffed coat revealed the blow up doll covered in garden manure, the real looking human face mask on the dummy had a note on the forehead “Look What You’ve Done”. The laughter from a hiding place and the half empty bottle of ice cold Heineken was enough. Sam was the victim of N.F.’s vengeance. Yaega laughed hysterically. (Sam Slick squared it with N.F.)
Lets fast forward to the here and now.
N.F. has a long history to those who have been part of the bar scene in the late 90’s and early 2K’s. He disappeared in the woods of Upstate N.Y. in a move that was staged from several locations including Bears Garage. After one warm autumn a few years passed, he left “downstate” swearing not to return if he could help it. An event came up and he couldn’t help being at, so he materialized.
Extraterrestrials were meeting in a hangar at Kennedy Airport to discuss migration, logistics and disbursements for outworlders working on earth during a recent Sunday past. N.F. came in the Saturday Night before(Dec. 6) to catch up with old friends. The only one to show up on that snowy Saturday Night was Yaega Lee. The three of us were at ‘Game On’ talking the night away and catching up on life. All in all, a good time. There are other bar stories about N.F. and the outworlders to be blogged about in another time, maybe another place.
RJ
Karaoke Night: A Review
REMEMBERING A BLAST OF AN EVENING
Posted By Ruby
Edited by RJ
Preface: I had a nice night given I went to come down off of a bad day. The night helped take the edge off my broken heart and bitter grief. My Uncle, WWII Veteran, Contractor, Master Carpenter and Co-Founder of the finest preschool in Queens, one of the finest in New York City died suddenly. Uncle Henry was 82. He was the last of eight brothers.
I had to let out the pain. Even though it was my Uncle that passed all I could do was think of my late wife. I needed to let go some pain, so I sang a couple of songs that night but hardly looked at the screen. I got a couple of hot young women who weren't gay to let me sing to them so I could concentrate on the words and hope to get these young women or those around them to feel what I was feeling.
Even though there were compliments I took it in stride realizing much liquor had passed over the bar. It helped some to sing a bit. There was much to see and laugh about. Nobody was mocked or ridiculed and many struggling singer got help from 'the crowd'. Many solo's became chorale events of the finest calibur. You should have been there no matter who you feared would be singing and drinking. So the following is from Robin sent to me in an e-mail edited for time and space.
RJ, I hope you had a good time Thursday (Karaoke) night. I sure as hell did. OMG!! Gary and Laurie were great and everyone was having so much fun that (I don't know when you left, you know, Tequila and all that) Elvin actually went for the extra hour and wants to do it at least once a month.
Oh, yeah, I never realized at previous Karaoke's that you can actually sing! I thought you were just a talker but you're second number was excellent. Actually, after everyone loosened up, they also sounded better (how drunk was I? I didn't feel that drunk).
I stayed until 4:00 a.m. and bar backed S.T. but people were still there at that time so I think I left. When I got home E.T. was getting ready for work so that wasn't great. I passed out when he left and woke up 8 hours later still drunk (I think). I got to work around 2:00 p.m. and when I opened the door it wasn't that bad for a circus tent. Amazing, I looked behind the bar and even though I helped S.T. clean up before I left there were beer bottles everywhere, glasses and crap stuck to everything.
Hangover in hand, feeling like a truck ran over me (every muscle in my body hurt, too much dancing maybe?) I started to clean up. Just when I was ready to give up, my friend A.D. came in and helped me. What an angel, he swept, mopped and brought out the cases I needed to restock. Without that help I think I would have died.
I am truly lucky to have people like this in my life, I'm used to being the person who is the pleaser and I am also not comfortable with others doing for me what I am responsible for. (OCD? or pride?, I have no idea) In closing (I'm so tired and I had to stay late for S.T. [who covered for Nikki] because S.T. was puking all day so I covered until 9:00) who is the "Belle of the Ball"?
Who can work all day, drink, bar back until 4 in the morning and then go back to work the next day and clean the mess, restock and still make out well in tips even though they are running on fumes? Tis' I!! Not to toot my own horn about being a party animal, but really, this late 20ish year old can't keep up with the pro's. I rest my case (lol).
I hope you had fun RJ, thanks for the drinks and I hope to see you soon!!
Love,
I stayed until 4:00 a.m. and bar backed S.T. but people were still there at that time so I think I left. When I got home E.T. was getting ready for work so that wasn't great. I passed out when he left and woke up 8 hours later still drunk (I think). I got to work around 2:00 p.m. and when I opened the door it wasn't that bad for a circus tent. Amazing, I looked behind the bar and even though I helped S.T. clean up before I left there were beer bottles everywhere, glasses and crap stuck to everything.
Hangover in hand, feeling like a truck ran over me (every muscle in my body hurt, too much dancing maybe?) I started to clean up. Just when I was ready to give up, my friend A.D. came in and helped me. What an angel, he swept, mopped and brought out the cases I needed to restock. Without that help I think I would have died.
I am truly lucky to have people like this in my life, I'm used to being the person who is the pleaser and I am also not comfortable with others doing for me what I am responsible for. (OCD? or pride?, I have no idea) In closing (I'm so tired and I had to stay late for S.T. [who covered for Nikki] because S.T. was puking all day so I covered until 9:00) who is the "Belle of the Ball"?
Who can work all day, drink, bar back until 4 in the morning and then go back to work the next day and clean the mess, restock and still make out well in tips even though they are running on fumes? Tis' I!! Not to toot my own horn about being a party animal, but really, this late 20ish year old can't keep up with the pro's. I rest my case (lol).
I hope you had fun RJ, thanks for the drinks and I hope to see you soon!!
Love,
Ruby
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