Hide & Seek

Hide & Seek

It was Saturday November 3, 2012.  I went to visit ‘G’ in her darkened bar.  Hurricane Sandy knocked out electricity to most of Long Island and South Hempstead was still in the dark.  

There were cute little flashlight lanterns on the pool table one neon yellow for the ladies room and a bright red one for the men’s room.  ‘G’ had a small boom box with the radio in an eerily darkened bar with at least six of her regulars in attendance.

D.B. was raising hell as everyone fought to stay warm inside the cold dark bar even though it was a bright sunny day.  I told D.B. to stop trying to give Rocco a hard time for not buying one those security systems he was peddling, besides Rocco did better and spent less money for it elsewhere.  

I walked to the local McDonalds after taking orders from the clientele because the kitchen in the bar was useless.  D.B. went with me to help carry everything back.  It amazed me that McDonalds had a generator and KFC didn’t.

When we got back into Bronkos Zed was hunched over in the corner by the door letting the sunlight warm his back.  He was agitated, he was shaking, he was scared.  ‘G’ asked him “what’s the matter with you?”  “I saw a Doctor about some problems I have and well,…I don’t want to talk about it right now” said Zed as he sucked on his bottled Bud. 

D.B.’s eyes lit up as he snapped his fingers declaring “your having freak withdrawals, I saw you with that hot little hooker at the Oasis last night, man that thang was hot, nasty and ready to rock, well did she Zed?  Did she rock your world, did she make your planet twirl, did she man, did she?  “SHUT UP D.B.” screamed Zed as he looked out the window with apprehension, pulling his hands down over his face then he got lost inside his beer.

‘G’ didn’t say anything taking a bottle of Jameson off the shelf and poured a shot for Zed and put it next to his beer.  ‘G’ knew something we didn’t but it would not be long before Zed poured it out of him like a long leak after a five mile force march.

 

D.B. was playing tunes from his I-Phone when Zed asked him if had seen his ‘freak’ and if so was she looking for him.  D.B. being the total asshole he is cut right to the chase asking Zed “what did you do to that bitch?” 

Zed looked up at D.B., his eyes as red as the Martian surface but before he could say anything D.B. went on his little inquisition about the woman, the activities and the reason Zed asked if he’d seen her. D.B. said “Zed, she was young and willing to do everything…you left in hurry last night with that hottie, did you go to the boat, the hotel or the boss-ladies dungeon?”

This time it was ‘G’, “SHUT UP D.B.  You were going to say something Zed, go ahead, I’m listening.”  Zed said, “My boat is in my neighbors yard, the hotels are all booked with survivors with no homes to go to and it was too cold and too dark to take her down to the dungeon.  I had her in my brothers RV…I promised her she could stay there, I gave her money too…she lost everything and said she’d do anything if I would help her.  At first I saw it as a fair trade, now I feel like shit.”

Before D.B. could open his mouth ‘G’ stared Zed down while holding a knife and told Zed to continue. (‘G’ looked consoling and caring but soon we would find out what she thought about this) Zed threw back the shot as ‘G’ set him down another beer, Zed said, “she wanted me to hold her, console her, love her…like I was her husband or something, like I had saved her life or something.”

D.B. blurted “whats her name Zed?” “Pia, she owned a small business on the Nautical Mile, Sandy wrecked it.  Pia's Dad died a few years back, her mother is in a mental facility and she is an only child…she’s in her late 20’s.  

Look, I just wanted to give her a few bucks a place to stay for a night and score myself a quick piece of ass but now I feel like a heel.  What’s worse she called me and said she needs me to help her.”

Zed rattled on as D.B. smiled trying to fight off laughter.  ‘G’ was still, attentive and quiet.  I was looking at the old soul at the back end of the bar who stuck around,  he was reading his paper, occasionally looking up at Zed as if he was a convict. 

Zed said, “I left her in the RV at my brothers place, I got my generator out of the boat and it is running electricity to my house.  I told my brother about Pia and his RV.  I just figure I got to kick the girl out and let her fend for herself because if I let her get attached to me I won’t get rid of her.  How would I explain it to my daughter or my other women?”

‘G’ gave a gentle smile, but her eyes were blank…I’d seen that look before and it was on her father’s face when he worked for a ‘family business’ when we were kids.  The guy her dad was talking to was never seen again.  ‘G’ was scaring me.  ‘G’ said to Zed, “this girl Pia is about…what the seventh woman you had in the last two months, right?”  “No, she’s number 8” said Zed assuredly.

‘G’ spoke softly saying “what was the problem the Doctor said you had Zed? By the way, I know what kind of Doctor you saw, be straight with me, don’t worry about these guys in here because they could care less.  So what’s your problem Zed?”  Zed took a long swallow of his beer and said “apparently the Doctor thinks I’m some kind of sex addict.” ‘G’ said “I’m listening Zed.”

‘G’ poured another shot and placed another beer in front of Zed who was now letting loose, D.B. who was listening intently went to the men’s room but left his I-phone (turned on and recording) and his money on the bar.  

Zed rattled on “after my wife gave me V.D. and we divorced years ago, I just found that sex was my way of dealing with stress and letting go.  I never dragged it home to my little girl, I keep it in the streets.  But I get these scenarios in my head and I just do what I got to.”

‘G’ said “so you do what you ‘got to’ do to make the scenario real, right Zed?” Zed nodded his head up and down.  ‘G’ then asked “how is the Doctor treating you for this problem Zed?”  “I have to go to this clinic in Manhattan and go through some kind of psycho sex therapy rehab.  But right now all I can think about is how to get out of this guilt trip and dump this Pia broad ‘G’.” 

 ‘G’ said softly and sternly, “Zed you and your brother are going to let Pia stay in the RV as long as she needs, then your going to help Pia contact FEMA and the County for help, just like your doing for yourself.  

You let Dad know what you did and what your going to do because he and Ricky nine-fingers hold the loans to your business and they don’t need the publicity of a destitute young girl claiming she was raped and abused looking for help.  

Such things could happen to you. Understand Zed?”

Zed looked up at ‘G’ and started shaking.  ‘G’ raised her eyebrows staring into Zed’s face, he shook his head and started to weep.  

‘G’ gave him his buy back and poured Zed another shot.  D.B. got back to hear the end of the conversation and he started to shake his head looking at ‘G’ like she just pulled a gun.  I knew enough to understand there was a whole lot more going on than meets the eye.

‘G’ got Zed’s phone and called Pia.  Pia came to the bar and left with Zed who was doing a lot of talking on the way to the car.  When they left I gently asked ‘G’ if she would fill in some blanks for me if she didn’t mind.  ‘G’ said Zed wanted to go out with her but she told him he would have to lose the girl friends.  

They never went out but ‘G’ talked some of her ‘family people’ into loaning Zed money for a second boat.  Zed pay’s on time but his guarantors are all business and just business.

‘G’ also made sure Zed can get some ass from the owner, boss lady.  Zed gets to fuck boss lady in her dungeon when he wants or when boss lady wants it.  You see, boss lady (owner of the establishment) is also one of Zed’s investors and a nymphomaniac. 

D.B. knows more of the situation and said he would tell me after Pia is out of Zed’s life.  All D.B. would tell me was “it’s a game of hide and seek, women in here want dick but want to hide their dirt, ‘G’ hooks Zed up with these broads and ‘G’ gets paid on both ends, when Zed used Pia it pissed ‘G’ off. 

Your girl ‘G’ is a pimp RJ, she arranges the dirt that freaks seek.  Know that.”

D.B. turned off his I-phone voice recorder editing out his dissertation, but he had recorded everything else that was said.

Hurricane Sandy brought out the best in people given a very bad situation.  Somehow right doings can be done by not so right people.

RJ

Much To Be Thankful For

Much To Be Thankful For

When Uncle Buck Skyped me I was surprised.  Generally it’s me who starts the conversation to get the insight of wisdom from years of hard living, hard loving, hard working and straight shooting.  

Today it was Uncle Buck calling me.  He was smoking his pipe, clothed in his wash and wear Sears suit from the 1960’s cursing the ‘demon possessed laptop’ he was seeing me through.

“What’s wrong with ya boy” said Uncle Buck in a low growl, removing the pipe with his left hand as he hoisted his snifter full of Jack with the other (Uncle Buck also wanted to know why I hadn’t blogged in awhile).   I said “I’m fine Uncle Buck, just dealing with life.” Uncle Buck gave me the ‘eye’ and said “spare me the casual table talk and the parlor room politeness, now tell me what the hell is going on with you.”

“Remember Uncle Buck, you asked.  I have a list so don’t go to sleep on me sir.” Uncle Buck smiled and said “say on, I’m listening.”  “Mick is having a hard time recuperating from lung cancer surgery and lost everything to Hurricane Sandy.  

           His wife ‘Sunny’ still has nightmares over her cats drowning in their apartment and still sees their bodies floating out of the apartment door.  She’s on medication now.”

Uncle Buck took a puff of his pipe and said, “So, your helping your brother all you can and you feel guilty cause it’s not enough, at least to you…that right boy?”  “Something like that Uncle Buck, chainsaw busted and I couldn’t clear my neighbors yard before she had a heart attack and died.”  “RJ, you mean the Chinese lady round the corner from you?”  “Yes Sir.”

Uncle Buck grimaced and said a prayer for her.  Uncle Buck then returned to his interrogation.  “What else is bugging you RJ?”  I poured some liquor in my snifter and started to laugh when I thought about Veterans Day, about how it was trashed.  “The Veteran’s Day program at the ‘Game’ was totally stepped on and disrespected and I was ready to tear down everything and go home Uncle Buck.”

“I gather from your tone and the sentence that you did not do that RJ, why?"

I looked into my glass and said, “because my friends and others apologized for the fiasco but I still think I am often wasting my time.  I don’t believe people really give a fuck about Veteran’s, Veteran’s Day or what it is to actually be an American.”

 Uncle Buck put down his pipe and picked up his liquor, pointing at me saying “how do you expect civilians to appreciate anything or learn anything?  These people are only out for a good time, free food and cheap booze.  RJ you might be a dumb as you look.”  So I asked “so I shouldn’t feel as bad as I do?”  “RJ what you do is admirable but don’t expect civilians to appreciate it.”

Uncle Buck turned and spit, hitting the spittoon, now ringing in Delaware and in my office.  “What else is on your mind boy, said you had a list.”  “I have a friend who works at a tavern called Bronkos, her name is ‘G’.  She has to go and have a tumor removed from her lung and it might be cancer, I’m worried Uncle Buck, first Mick, Rick and now ‘G’.” It really bothers me.”

“Years of a fine theological education, audits at two Seminaries, a Masters Degree in Divinity and you don’t have the faith of a beggar do you RJ?” “Why are you goading me Unc’?” “Because you know how to pray, you know God and his Christ, you got many a bad kid saved and now you want to doubt?  Stop your silly assed pity party and go kick some spiritual and natural butt.  If you believe, they will too!  Hear me boy?”

“Yes Sir, I hear you.”  Uncle Buck had loaded up another bowl and fired up his pipe and then asked “what else is causing you to get so down.”  “Uncle Buck it’s coming up on ten years since Daddy died and it seems I haven’t been able to do as well as I thought I should.  I feel as if I’m failing at everything and sometimes I just want to sit in the dark and finish a bottle.”

Uncle Buck said, “there it is.  You think since you swore an oath, since you can wear the uniform, since you can preach the gospel you ought to be impervious to what we mere mortals call ‘life’.  

      You have overcome a lot holding on to God’s unchanging had so let me remind you of some things you managed to do.”

Uncle Buck went on a rant. “You saved a little girls life in Korea, you were decorated for catching somebody trying to sell secrets to the Russians, you worked for NASA as a subcontractor for IBM in support of the Shuttle Mission, you kept your family together after your Dad died and your looking after your Mother, my sister, who is losing her cotton picking mind.  

You saved your nephew from getting his ass killed in Hempstead trying to score some crank and you got your niece to figure out what to do with her life.”

Uncle Buck took a breath and a swig of his Jack, put his hand up so to stop me from speaking and he continued.  “Boy, Mick had to tell me you put up Ricky and his whole family because they had no heat or electricity and you lent your generator to your Brother Fatwad’s friend Billy who used it to support three families under his roof.  For someone who is a failure you are pretty damn good at making a way out of hardship…just like your Daddy did!”

I felt like a little kid getting scolded but Uncle Buck was right.  “Thanks Uncle Buck, I will get things squared away and help Mom, everybody’s coming to the house on Thanksgiving.”  Uncle Buck smiled and said “you got much to be thankful for and don’t let anybody forget it, hear me boy?”  “Yes Sir, I hear you.”

Uncle Buck said “before I leave you tell me how you did on that Solar PV course.” “I passed, got my certificate and I’m back in school again.  How are you Uncle Buck?”  

“Doing very well RJ, going down to the Republican Club meeting to console my ‘old Kracker’ friends about Romney’s loss and then I’ll scare them with some rumors about their socialist Muslim President.”

“You are having too much fun Uncle Buck.”  “Got to RJ…life is short.”

RJ

  

A Somber Survivor Halloween Party

A Somber Survivor Halloween Party

After Hurricane Sandy the ‘Game Bar’ had opened Thursday running its lights on some car batteries rigged up by Poppy’s friend Bossman from the Deli.  But Friday the lights came on and Reeta prepared the ‘Game’, along with Krizz’ee and some others, for the Halloween Party.

  

I showed up about 9:00 (I found out late in the afternoon or early evening about the party still going on).  The bar had a few regulars and two women I had never seen before.  Food had been laid out by Bossman from his Deli, Roast Beef, Pastrami, Potato Salad, Cole Slaw, Pickles, Peppers and other delightful eats.  But the spirit in the Game was somber, most folks there came to escape.

The regulars who would show up later, the survivors and the bedraggled came to the game to get warm others had another motive.  The two women no one saw before stole some of the food and split.  Krizz’ee and Reeta were pissed but there was still plenty of food.  Some of the ladies came in costume trying to get their fellow survivors in the Halloween spirit. 

But it was the eerie darkness of a Halloween without electricity, without heat, without gasoline, without food that had the souls in the ‘Game’ visibly rattled.  I jumped on the jukebox playing Halloween music and motivational rock.  The place started to liven up although conversation was not about Halloween but about survival and getting information regarding resources.  But even with those conversations, people loosened up and had a good time.

Most of the regulars didn’t have electricity at their homes and were glad to be at the ‘Game’ to enjoy heat.  Others talked about the hardships they were helping their neighbors through.  Some conspired on how to get more gas to run their generators and even more found ways to score blankets and other clothing to keep their kids warm.

Soon the ladies got the music to liven up even more and some of the patrons started to dance, some started to joke and laugh and eventually the reality that most sought to escape from was set aside and forgotten for a little while.  I asked Poppy if he saw these women before and he said “no, but I won’t keep a grudge, or keep them out…who knows how hard or desperate they might be.”

Everybody was in a good frame of mind, even after Midnight, even after the TV had special reports on some new fires and the discovery of bodies in some houses in Far Rockaway.

Krizz’ee turned down the TV and let the music play after the football games and the Basketball games had finished.  All of us were stealing a moment to encourage each other, to laugh, to have a moment of fun.

But what was evident was the lament when it came time to leave, some forced a smile through tears as they left the happiness of the party for the grief of the reality that had to be lived through.  Bossman talked of finding gas so he could get to his distributors to restock his Deli.  He had run out of nearly everything, he jury rigged his store like he rigged up the ‘Game’…doing business and helping folks any way he could.

Others had to find a way to get to work, still others had to find a way to get food in their house.  Many found temporary shelter at their friend’s homes with power and heat, so they could stay warm through the coming days.  What did become real to me was that the self righteous, know it all, street hardened New Yorker's were again doing what they do best in the face of tragedy and disaster…come together!

I thought of my Dad when I got in the car to leave…I wondered if I was doing enough for my family and friends.  As I started to fade into sadness I got a call from my brother telling me that the folks from Oceanside and Long Beach can’t thank me enough for use of my generator…they can run their oil burner and their freezers.  They are supporting three families under one roof.

  

The blessing for me is I did prepare for absolute disaster, but never lost power, didn’t take any real damage and had stored up both gas and oil.  We had heat at home, we had the ability to help somebody.  When I got off the phone with my brother I thought of some words by Dr. King. 

Dr. King said “The world is all messed up, the nation is sick, trouble is in the land, confusion all around…but I know somehow only when it is dark enough can you see the stars and I see God working in this period…in a way that men in some strange way are responding something is happening in our world. 

The masses of people are rising up and wherever they are assembled today, whether they are in Johannesburg, South Africa, Nairobi, Kenya, Accra, Ghana, New York City, Atlanta Georgia or Memphis Tennessee, the cry is always the same We Want To Be Free.”

In the bondage of the current despair brought about by disaster, a bad economy, cynicism of government promises and distrust of banks, business, the state and the Church, the New Yorker, specifically the Long Islander struggles through the cry and the tears to be free again. 

I remembered how Dad worked to secure what we had so we could have a life, now I have become as my Dad was, somebody who works to build what was a good life.  As I left the parking lot I heard the jukebox playing a Bill Wither’s tune…"just call on me brother when you need a hand…we all need somebody to lean on…”

RJ

Sunday Night – Prelude to Disaster

Sunday Night – Prelude to Disaster

Yaega Lee worked Sunday day as usual and had the Jets crowd sitting in a nasty bar while she served drinks and attempted to clean at the same time.  

This wasn’t working well and was driving her crazy.  Even though the turnout during the day was good, the bar, which usually has a nice vibe, now had the aura of any filthy dive bar.  The bartender (Yaega) was not happy. Neither was the crowd watching the Jets loose miserably at home.

I showed up in the middle of the Giants game, most of the regulars were in attendance losing their minds in disbelief as the Giants nearly lost a roller coaster game with the Dallas Cowboys.  The crowd was elated at the win and everybody was having a pleasant Sunday evening even though the apprehension around the coming storm was on everybody’s mind.

Then the news came out that Far Rockaway, Long Beach and other coastal areas had to be evacuated.  Many patrons could not get back to Far Rockaway and many did not know the evacuation order had been given.  Hurricane Sandy was on the way.

As the sun went down and gave way to evening.  The regulars started to leave and a night crowd came out.  Ruby was working the night shift and all was going well.  JayMac and Sheeka hung around and talked about the Halloween party on Saturday Night.  Most of the conversation centered around the bartender who was, in their words, ‘selective on who got good service’ during the evening.

The Rockaway crowd came in despite storm warnings and evacuation orders along with the Joey Barr (Batman from the Halloween Party) and the Boss at the Pool Hall next door, things were going good as Ruby shut it down around 2:00 am.  

But something in the ‘mojo’ Candy put out on Friday showed up Sunday night.  When Ruby tried to shut the back door, it creaked and then I heard a pop.  The back door had pulled out from the door frame. 

Upon investigation I noticed the screws were removed from the door hinges.

It didn’t take a Genius to realize that this major malfunction had a whole lot of help.  Ruby called the emergency number for Poppy J at 2:30 am.  I vowed to stay with her until he showed up.  

I helped her call several numbers including Yaega Lee at 2:30 am, who said that Poppy would answer his wife’s phone. 

Three of us stayed with Ruby as Ruby and myself made phone calls to Poppy every 15 minutes.  I bought White Castle for everybody but Ruby said she would rather eat a cadaver than White Castle hamburgers.

It was now 5:00 am and I got a phone call from my brother who had been forced to evacuate his home in Far Rockaway at midnight.  He had no money and needed help to buy gas.  

I had to leave Ruby but Mr. Smurf stayed with her.  Poppy showed up around 8:30 am.  

Ruby had found another phone number for Poppy and left angry messages for Poppy until he did show up.  

The suggestion that Ruby use her car to push the door shut didn’t make her any sweeter.

Poppy shut that door Monday morning.  It is Friday after the Hurricane Sandy disaster, that door hasn’t been open since.  No one has heard when the bar will open again.  The status of Krizz’ee’s Halloween Party is uncertain to me. 

While all of Long Islands citizens fight each other over dwindling gas supplies and people stand in line for mass transit that cannot move the masses I can be thankful that Hurricane Sandy didn’t do me much harm.  I pray as much for all of you in the blogisphere.

Hope to see you all whenever.

RJ

Prelude to Catastrophe….Stupid is as Stupid does

Prelude 

to Catastrophe ….Stupid is as Stupid does

Somehow the events of the last several days after the Sandy disaster struck are more of a disaster than the event itself.   I will kind of recap some events at the ‘Game’ bar starting with last Friday night.  I had caught up with Candy at Bronkos where ‘G’ had a nice crowd and good spirited folks enjoying a relaxing cocktail before heading home.

Candy and I went to the ‘Game’ bar because it was Friday and she wanted to be around folks she knew (or at least she thought she did) Krizz’ee was working and Reeta hung around but the crowd was kind of nutty for a Friday Night.  Bossman and his crew was in the house along with the usual Friday night regulars.  There were a few ladies in the place that both guys and some girls wanted to talk to.

There was an edge to the night after Bossman left and the crowd became aggressive.  Candy wanted to shoot a game of pool with me but we ended up playing doubles with another set of folks because it was their table.  After most of the crowd got polluted on drinks and whatever else they could get from their ‘friends’, things got stupid. 

DeeDee wanted to shoot pool against Candy and got her wish when she scared off some other folks who wandered in from the pool hall next door.  

Candy insisted that she was breaking because DeeDee racked, DeeDee said something to Candy in a rude tone to which Candy responded by saying ‘bite me’.  DeeDee then grabbed Candy’s arm and bit it.  What started out as a pool game was quickly deteriorating.

I then got the parties calm and the game went on but Candy was ready to go or kill somebody.  Candy won the pool game but the night was young.  Some of the young folks visiting with some regulars started getting loud and nasty with each other, while some regulars who drove in were ‘tore up from the floor up’ now looking to drive, not just themselves – but other folks home. 

Candy looked at me and said, “you’ve got to do something RJ.”  To which my reply was “why me?” 

Candy said, “you’ve been drinking tonic water all night and you’re the only one sober and the only one who is talking with any bit of sense.”  Candy then gave me a look that was really tense and raw. 

 I got the message and took a few folks home but one young lady insisted that she drive home and she was not in good shape.  Candy made her drink club soda for two hours and was mad at me when the young  lady did drive home.

Candy angry from the bruises and marks left by DeeDee’s bite was happy when DeeDee left.  Candy was still angry I let this lady drive home but was relieved when she called the bar and let us know she got home safe.  Now the only problem left was a drunken woman, ‘Jill’ who said something to Bossman’s Daughter, Zeena (who practices martial arts and looks it) was only out to have a drink was now ready to work out her work boots on Jill’s ass.

Candy made it her mission to calm Zeena down and diffuse the situation.  This gave Jill’s friends enough time to get her out of site and on her way home.  Needless to say we ended up staying till closing time.  

Candy was pissed about the bruises left by being bitten by DeeDee and was stopped by the Police on the way home.  She didn’t get a ticket but a stern admonition.

Candy said, “Its gonna be awhile before I come back, there’s a bad mojo in here (Game bar) and something’s gonna manifest itself and it won’t be good.”

When Candy left Hurricane Sandy was enroute to put more than a bad mojo on the whole of Long Island and devastate the South Shore.

RJ