BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Well, when it comes to “age” the proverbial Big Three Oh is languishing somewhere in a valley well behind a mountain range that is rapidly shrinking in my rear view mirror. That is to say, 30 was a long, long time ago… An entire voting and drafting age adult ago, in fact. However, if you do the math it works out that I took my final bow at Ritenour Senior High thirty years ago this past June. And, like most high school alumni association type folks, mine tossed a shindig to celebrate this milestone.

The party – or parties, I should say – in question occurred this past weekend (July 16 & 17), at two different locations, beginning with a “Multi Year Happy Hour” at the Lemp Mansion on Friday evening, which saw graduates spanning ’73 – ’84.  (Yours truly was a member of the “hosting class” for the shindig, 1980). Much fun was had, many old faces seen. Some old faces with new construction. Some old faces that hadn’t changed. But mostly, we were all just old. I visited with friends I hadn’t seen in 30 years, and some I hadn’t seen in 5. I even visited with people I didn’t know that I knew and am still not entirely certain that I know, if that makes any sense. As a rule, it seemed a healthy chunk of the folks knew me – or of me – whereas I had a passing familiarity with a much smaller percentage, and am friends with an even smaller number than that.

This can be a little disconcerting, but beer helps. Several beers helps even more…

Night two was the “Class of 80 Reunion Proper” and it was held at the Missouri Athletic Club – a posh private club in downtown Saint Louis with fancy ballrooms and high end food. Suffice it to say, when the elaborate appetizer table features plenty of Stilton and Brie among the countless selections, you definitely aren’t talking “supermarket cheese tray” here. This is some upscale digs.

At any rate, the evening was filled with more chatting, old faces, new old faces, old new faces, and as always seems to be the case with me, a bit of the bizarre. What follows here is a Facebook note I put out there to recap the evening. Since many of my blog readers aren’t on FB, I thought I’d re-run it here:

RHS Class of ’80 30 Year Reunion Recap…

...from the perspective of a satire slinging suspense-thriller author, of course.

Drive… Drive… Drive.
Park
Walk… Walk… Walk…

Check in table…

Kathy (Not EK): MURV!
Me: KATHY!
Teri: Here’s your nametag.
Me: I have a nametag? YAY! I’m SOMEBODY!!!
Teri: Have fun.
Me: We’ll try. But if we don’t it’s your fault and I’m going to come looking for you.
Teri: SECURITY!

Mingle… Mingle…

Me: Yeah, the redhead will have a tonic with a twist. What kind of beer do you have?
Bartender: AB this… AB that… AB the other… AB… AB…
Me: What, no C?
Bartender: AB this… AB that… AB the other… AB… AB…

Random Classmate: Hi.
Me: Hi, ummm, do I know you?
Random Classmate: I don’t know, but I know you.
Me: Sorry… I just can’t place you.
Random Classmate: You’re that guy.
Me: I am?
Random Classmate: Yeah.
Me: Oh, uh, okay.

Mingle… Mingle…

Random Classmate: Hi. We went to school together.
Me: Ummm, yeah. I think that could be said for most everyone in the room. Here’s your sign.

Random Classmate: Picture, picture. I need a picture.
(smile) {flash}
Random Classmate: Me too! Me too!
(smile) {flash}
Random Classmate: Over here, Murv!
(smile) {flash}
(smile) {flash}
(smile) {flash}
{little floaty spots in front of my face}
Music in my head: BLINDED BY THE LIGHT, REVVED UP LIKE A…

[hug]
[hug}
[handshake]
[hug]
[handshake]

E K: Who was that?
Me: I have no effing idea.

[hug]
[hug]
[handshake]

Random Classmate: Murv! How are you? Remember that time when we blah blah whatchmacallit blah?
Me: Ummm. No?
Random Classmate: Oh come on. We blah blah, then bla… Oh… Wait… That wasn’t you. Sorry.
Me: No problem. I get that a lot.
Random Classmate: Ummmm… I hear you write books now.
Me: That’s the rumor.
Random Classmate: You’re going to put this in a book aren’t you?
Me: (nodding) Yeah. Probably. At the very least I’ll make fun of you in a blog or something.

Random Classmate: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Random Classmate: Do you know me?
Me: Hell no, I don’t even know myself.
Random Classmate: You’re that guy, right?
Me: That’s what I’ve been hearing.
Random Classmate: No. Really. You’re that guy.
Me: Okay, you got me. I’m that guy. But, sometimes when I’m feeling pretty, I’m that girl.
Random Classmate: O_o.
Me: Yeah, kinda scary, huh? (Especially since I look nothing at all like Marlo Thomas.)

BUFFET LINE…

E K: Woohoo! VEGGIES!
Random Classmate: (pointing) Ummm… What’s that?
Me: (pointing) Grilled eggplant, grilled zucchini, grilled asparagus, grilled portabello mushroom, grilled peppers…
Random Classmate: Oh… those are vegetables, right? I’ll pass…
Me: You’d have a much easier time with that if you actually ate some of the veggies. Fiber, ya’know.
Random Classmate: O_o

Eat… Eat…Eat…

DJ Jazzy J And The Funky Bunch – YO! {{{feedback… buzzzzz… squeal… feedback}}}
[MYOO-ZIK – Thumpita Thumpita TWANG THUMPA]

Random Classmate: HI!
Me: WHAT?
Random Classmate: HI!
Me: WHAT?
Random Classmate: YOU’RE MURV, RIGHT?
Me: OH, I THINK IT’S JUST DOWN THE HALL.
Random Classmate: WHAT?

Me: (relating an anecdote to friends) …And then at my last book launch I had someone who actually believed she’s a “REAL vampire slayer” and wanted to “slay” my fans when they showed up.
Steve, Cathy, and Nathan: You actually get crazy people showing up?
Me: At least one at every event. Sometimes more…
(frantic high heels coming closer – clickity, clackity, clickety, clackety…)
Random Classmate: You don’t know me, but I know about you!
Me: What will it take for you to not call the police? I really can’t afford another strike on my record right now.
Random Classmate: O_o… Ummm… I know who you are.
Me: I’m glad someone does, because I lost my wallet.
Random Classmate: No… You don’t understand… I know what you do.
Me: Like I said, how much for you to not call the police?
Random Classmate: No… You write books.
Me: I’ve heard that about me.
Random Classmate: Well, have I got a story for you!
Me: Really? What is it?
Random Classmate: I can’t tell you because you’ll steal it.
Me: Yeah, I don’t blame you. Just can’t trust us author types.
Random Classmate: But I’ll sell it to you.
Me: Sugar, no offense, but I have more ideas running around in my head than I’ll be able to write in my lifetime, so I’m not going to steal it or buy it.
Random Classmate: But this has never been done before and it will make a great movie.
Me: So, what is it?
Random Classmate: I can’t tell you. You’ll steal it.
E K: [giggle]
Steve, Cathy, Nathan: Crap… You weren’t kidding, were you?

{flash} {flash}
[hug hug]

Random Classmate: Hmmnimmm… Wharz baffoom?
Me: Hall to the left.
Random Classmate: Hmmmnim.
clickety, clackety, clickety, clackety, CRASH!
Steve, Nathan, Cathy, EK, Me: (checking on the noise) Are you okay?
Random Classmate: Hmminnmm rmmm hhmminnimmmmm…

(frantic high heels coming closer – clickity, clackity, clickety, clackety…)
Previous Random Classmate: I’ve got a story… I’ve got a story… I’ve got a story…
Steve, Cathy, and Nathan: This is going in a book, isn’t it?
Me: Probably.

Various Classmates: Bye… See you in five years.
Me: Bye. See you on Facebook.

Many of my friends keep telling me that my experience has something to do with celebrity. I think they’re wrong, because we didn’t have any celebrities at the reunion, other than the folks who worked so hard to put the shindig together.

Rumor has it the 35th is going to be a 4 day cruise. I have to wonder if I’ll be hearing clickity, clackity, clickety, clackety… stumble… gaaahhhhhhh! SPLASH!

I hope not, but if I do I’ll have no choice but to put it in a book. After laughing so hard that my drink shoots out my nose... Why? Because I’m that guy.

More to come…

Murv

(Pictured: Photo 1 – Dave Perkins, M. R. Sellars, E K… Photo 2 – Kathy Patterson Inkley, M. R. Sellars…)

There is a stretch of highway in Saint Louis county known as I-170. Sometimes it is called the “Innerbelt”, although these days that term is not as prevalent as it was once upon a time. A time, incidentally, that I am actually old enough to remember.

You see, way back when, in the days of dinosaurs and mammoths, I-170 was designated as 725. These days I-170 stretches from the Highway 40 interchange in the southern portion of the county, up to the I-270 interchange in the north. But, back when it was called 725 – or, as we teens at the time called it, Seven And A Quarter – the Innerbelt ran from Eager Road in the south and unceremoniously ended with a barricade and a single must take exit at Page Avenue, smack in the middle of Northwest County. Back then it was the quickest way – and ostensibly, still is – to get to Clayton. You may have heard of Clayton – and no, I’m not talking about Clayton Moore aka The Lone Ranger. Clayton, Missouri is where you find the county courthouse.

But, as usual, I’m not actually writing this blog to talk about Clayton. I’m writing it to talk about construction.

Road construction to be precise.

Many years ago, as the dinosaurs were dying out and mammals were becoming the dominant species (i.e. my early, early 20’s) our short little stretch of tarmac, so lovingly known as Seven And A Quarter became I-170 and was expanded, lengthened, what have you. Well, as urban sprawl continues to… well… sprawl, traffic changes and what seemed like a good idea at the time no longer meets the needs of the unforeseen future. So, things get torn up, rebuilt, expanded, stretched, widened, and otherwise completely re-invented.

Such was the case with I-170. At some point during my late, late 30’s the powers that be realized that the person who had originally designed the interchange at I-170 and I-270 had probably been smoking crack while drawing up the plans. It was probably one of the wort, most congested, and literally dangerous interchanges known to man. So, in a bid to correct the mistake, they redesigned it, tore it all up, and made a bigger and better interchange between the thoroughfares.

Then, traffic increased on I-170 because the I-270 terminus was no longer a clusterf*ck. What did that mean? Well, simple. It made the rest of I-170 a cluster. What was once a lonely stretch of road connecting two parts of the county was becoming a parking lot every morning and evening throughout the week. So, what did the powers that be do? Well, the only thing they could. They found someone else who wasn’t on crack, redesigned the Innerbelt, tore it up, and made it better than it was.

Better, stronger, faster…

Let me tell you, it cost more than 6 million bucks too. It even cost more than 7 million (the pricetag on the Bionic Woman… ya’know, inflation and all…)

But, in the end, congestion was alleviated and I-170, while not returned to its original quietude as 725, became much easier and faster to travel. In many ways this is good. In others, maybe not so much. You see, living where we do, I-170 is pretty much a main thoroughfare for us. It is  close by, easily accessible, and an artery that will take us most anywhere we need or want to go – even if it is simply getting us to a different highway in order to reach our final destination. Therefore, E K and I travel it often.

Such was the case just the other day.

As we cruised along in the northbound lanes, wind whistling past the Evil-Mobile, (at the time the cloaking device was on and switched to Soccer Mom Van mode), and traveling somewhere near 987 miles per hour, (E K may be a petite bundle of mean, but her foot weighs 12 metric tonnes whenever it comes into contact with a gas pedal), we were watching the landscape flashing in the windows. Bare patches of flattened land were evident where grassy berms and stands of trees once lined the thoroughfare. Nearing our exit I happened to glance to the left and noticed the carcass of a rather large groundhog, sprawled lifeless in the center emergency lane against the better than 3 foot high concrete dividers.

I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the creature, and vocalized my theory about its demise.

“Poor bastard was probably just trying to cross the road and got stuck there because of the dividers and traffic,” I lamented.

EK  clucked her tongue and said, “Maybe it ran into traffic on purpose.”

I furrowed my brow and grunted, “Whaddaya mean?”

“I mean maybe it finally had enough of us tearing up its home and it just ran into traffic to commit suicide.”

You know, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if E K was right about that. And, what’s worse – If I were a groundhog trying to escape the utter insanity of human urban sprawl, I might just do the same…

More to come…

Murv