how i get myself into these things, i will just nevah know. but here i am, writing a story, basically on the fly. why? well, because i happened to mention a biker bar, and a couple of people thought it might be a interesting story to hear more about. so... i have been pondering how to tell this story in a creative and interesting way... but i am comin up empty... so, i figured, i will just sit here and write; until something comes together.
Y'all gotta realize... this happened like 19 years ago. and with a memory like mine, that's a long ways to go back... but i will try.
here we go......
picture it, Sicily, 1937...oh crap, wait... that was The golden Girls.
ok, picture this; San Diego, 1987. young Soul, a partyin fool back in the day. (key word "fool" here.) anyways, yes, good ole San Diego, California. A lot happened in the few years i spent there. but most of it , i shall save for other times such as this. ok. back to the biker bar:
i was a 21 year old, US NAVY gal. that alone is not that great of a combination, but add a few sun filled summer days, friends, and SOUL, into the mix... and what do ya get? a first and last trip to a san diego biker bar.
it didn't have to be a weekend for me to drink... or to drink to excess , for that matter. especially now that i was of legal drinking age. not that that had ever stopped me before, just seemed to have become more combustible, when i could get into bars without looking guilty.
so, this could have been a monday, or a friday, or a holiday , or a work day, or any day... but i was sitting at my house. it was actually a one bedroom apartment, in Imperial Beach; i lived alone. no pets, no people, just me, and i liked it that way. although, i did attempt a bird...til it bit me after it escaped from his cage. after that... i had no pets. well, until i attempted a guinea pig.... then i realized it smelled simply horrid...and i took it back to the pet store...with some made up story...that i had bought it for my nephew and he couldn't keep it. i was not home enough to have a cat or a dog at that time. so those were the extent of my pets at that time.
so ya, i lived alone, in a small apartment not far from the beach. i worked hard, i played hard, and i drank hard. so, when anyone wanted someone to go drink with...they knew where to find me.... if i wasn't at work... i was most likely home drinking. or out drinking. but if i was out drinking...i was with them, so they probably weren't looking for me.
but, this one night... feels like October, for some reason. but i don't think it was... i think that's my memory mixing two stories...with he same friend, and the same biker jacket. but i'll prolly never get that one straight. sooo... i am actually thinking it was warmer than october on this particular night. when the phone rang. there i was, kicked back with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other... i only remember this because... that was my permanent resting position while at home. well...most of the time.
so... there i am, the phone rings...i do believe that this was back in the day before cordless phones too. so i had to actually get up off me arse to get the phone. when i did so... it was my bestest friend. her name was cindy... and boy do i have some stories about her..and me..sailor sistahs. geesh. it was the best of times , it was the worst of times. ya know what? i have never read that book in my life... but i have heard that line a million times... and it describes san diego, and my friend and i to a T. but that's all for another day. or two.
so, i get up, something i didn't want to do at the time. i do remember it was sorta late, dark at least, and i already had a good buzz-on goin. but i answer the phone, and it's my pal...my bud, cindy. (sailor sistahs... that just ht me a minute ago, after all these years.... too little too late i reckon). but there she is...
she says.... hey let's go out.
i say where to?
she says to this bar i just found out about...it's a biker bar!
i say...ummm... a biker bar???? why a biker bar?
she says, cuz mark wants to go and i think it'll be cool, so come meet us.
i say... hmmmm... i don't think i want to go to a "biker bar". (you know... i was a drunken sailor...already boozin it up...me? in a biker bar? drunk? this could be trouble.)
but she himmed and i hawed... and in the end.... i ended up in freakin Coronado, in a damn biker bar.
it may have been between the two..I.B and Coronado..hell i don't know, but it wasn't very far from my house...so i got sucked in. with her himming ya know.. and seein as my hawing didn't help sway her to a more familiar , comfortable drinking establishment....there we were. leather jackets and all... checkin out this fantabulous biker bar. that actually looked like a straw roofed outdoor bar on a beach in tahiti or somethin. only with walls of course.... and a jukebox. and us. ugh boy.
so i wasn't feelin real good about going there in the first place, but it got even worse once we were there. it was like we had reached the point of no return. we were in a real live biker bar. how cool is that? the smell of leather and beer filled the room, loud music, loud men, pool tables.... and us... drinkin it up. losin our virginity to the other side. OF LIFE...NOT the bikers!!!
so, we were maybe on our second or third beer...which, actually didn't take us long to get to, so we hadn't been there for a real long time... there we were finally beginning to relax, and enjoy the place, the atmosphere etc.
ahhh hey cin this isn't sooo bad. i thought it would be a lot worse. ( i say)
she says...see i told ya.
mark, her boyfriend, by the way, chickened out, and we were there alone. just us.
cheers, my friend!
when all of the sudden....YELLIN and CRASH!!!! and people started rushing all over to one side of the bar... the side AWAY from the bar counter. everyone except two extremely drunken individuals....who, if you haven't figured it out yet... were in a bar fight. well duh... we were in a biker bar. but my fear had come true... my first thought earlier in the night when biker bar was first mentioned, was the reputation they had for fights, and knives, and that type of stuff that i was not quite acclimated to. yet there it was, and there i was, and there she was....
she thought it was the coolest thing ever...i on the other hand, just wanted to get the hell out of there... alive and without hand cuffs or gaping wounds.
still... it was like the train wreck thing.... don't wanna see it, but can't help but to watch. so we got as far away from the fight itself, where we could still see what was happening... and one guy takes a beer bottle, smashes it across the other guys face... and it broke !!! on this dudes freakin face....and it just started gushing blood everywhere. i was quite glad that it was dimly lit, because i really didn't want to see it in full lighting. but in my own juvenile way, i was disappointed that we didn't see ALL the blood. but that was about all we needed to see... that and the knife that the cut guy pulled out.... we booked on out of there.
she remained fascinated with the biker scene... i however did not. i gave her the black leather biker jacket that i had... a gift from one of those two dates, and "i love you" type things. he got kicked to the curb rather quickly if i might add. so i had no need for the jacket... no motorcycle to ride on... a nice fat muffler burn though... and...i had NO plans to ever go to a biker bar again. so i gave her the jacket. she became the biker babe wannabe.... and i learned to trust my instincts just a little more.
i have yet to return to a biker bar. btw.
if it doesn't feel right.... it aint.
