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Anyway, so I meet this girl named Andrea up in Tallahassee near the last weekend of my first quarter of college.
We are both at this shitty redneck bar, where a stupid cover band is playing Tom Petty and Elvis Costello songs.
It's "Punk Rock" night, and I'm with my pal Louis. We had decided it was time for a road trip of our own, and without telling my parents, I snuck into town and stayed at Louis' parents' house.
We are both dressed as the Blues Brothers. We're wearing dark jackets, dark hats, and dark sunglasses. Dark trick sunglasses. The kind that light up with little red lights, by being connected to this wire and a nine volt battery that sits in your pocket.
Anyway, we are dancing with each other, because we're too scared to ask any girls to dance. We're having a great time, and Louis makes me swear that if I get drunk, this time, he drives the whole way.
"Louis," I slur, "we are on a mission from God. Don't worry about it."
We both laugh at the Blues Brothers reference and continue to pogo to a B-52's song. The first real punk rock tune of the evening.
Eventually, this punky-looking girl walks up to me and the words "would you like to dance" fall out of her mouth.
I'm stunned.
Or in shock. I can't tell which.
Anyway, as we hop up and down on the dance floor with the blinking lights underneath it, she asks me if I remember her.
I look at her, her green bangs, her Buzzcocks T-shirt, and tell her I don't.
"Last time you saw me," she yells. "I was wearing a Clash T-shirt. Does that give you a clue?"
I think about it and try like hell to remember a girl this cute in a Clash T-shirt. But the only thing that comes to mind is a nipple.
A round, red, succulent nipple.
Then it hits me.
She's the girl from the Ramones concert that first day of college.
I'm about to tell her I remember her, but seeing the smile on my face, before I can speak, she sticks her tongue down my throat.
The next thing I know we are going at it hot and heavy on the dance floor, and Louis is just watching us embrace and
She tells us that when she was in Gainesville to see the Ramones, she thought we both were really cute. |
kiss as he smiles.
When the song is over, I introduce Louis to our little Clash T-shirt wearing friend from the Ramones concert and he asks her how it's going.
She explains to us that she attends Florida State University, here in Tallahassee, and there are no good "men" like us in town.
She further tells us that when she was in Gainesville to see the Ramones, she thought we both were really cute.
"Really?" asks Louis, from behind his blinking Blues Brothers glasses.
She asks us if she can introduce us to a friend of hers, and the next thing I know, Louis is making out with this tall blonde girl whose name I never caught, while I get busy with Andrea.
At the end of the evening, Andrea pops the question.
"What are you doing next weekend?" she asks.
"Why?" I ask her. Stupid.
"I want to know if it's okay if I drive down to Gainesville so we can spend the weekend together," she tells me.
Not able to speak, Louis answers for me.
"George would love that," he says.
She gives Louis her phone number, and Louis gives her mine.
Still too much in shock to say anything, I just watch as they arrange a time and place where we'll meet up.
During the whole next week, I walk around with a permanent hard-on.
I'm finally going to get laid and I somehow know it.
Probably because of the last words Andrea whispered in my ear that evening in Tallahassee.
In a little more than a sexy gasp she had told me, "Fuck you later."
During the whole next week, I walk around with a permanent hard-on. |
As the big night approaches, I tell Jim that this beautiful girl named Andrea is coming to stay with me for the weekend, and if possible, could he please sleep somewhere else.
"Nope," says Jim.
"Why the fuck not?" I yell. "I'd do the same for you."
"I can't," says Jim, with a serious look on his face.
When I ask him why he informs me that his parents are due to arrive the same weekend with me being in a bed with a girl and all, especially since I was a Jew.
Understanding Jim, and feeling bad for him, I tell him I'll make other arrangements.
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