It was Friday
morning at Koos Inc. and later that night I would be attending my very first
Rock concert with Harry, Munk, Weber, Sluga and several other Koos luminaries.
We were going to see KISS at the MECCA Arena in Milwaukee. The only problem was
getting our supervisor to allow us to leave two hours early at 3:30 so we could
cash our checks and wash off the Koos stink before the show. After much
pleading and a promise that we would definitely be at work at 6:00 a.m. the
next day, we finally got the okay. We were going to see KISS!
I wanna rock and
roll all night and party every day…
Weber picked me up
promptly at 5:00 in his small blue sub-compact with Harry and Munk already
stuffed into the backseat with a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon. As I attempted to
squeeze my large frame into the small vehicle, Munk shouted at me, “Where’s
your wine Puddles?”
Smiling, I reached
inside my jacket and produced a chilled flask full of Boone’s Farms finest.
“Oh, you already put it in the flask!” was the response I received. With that,
we made our way up I-94 with Munk and Harry attempting to pour wine into their
flasks as we all chugged ice cold PBR.
I wanna rock and
roll all night and party every day…
Forty minutes
later, with the all the flasks filled and the case of beer consumed, we pulled
into the enclosed parking structure just west of the MECCA Arena. With all that
beer in my bladder, I needed to make quick work of the three-block journey that
separated me from a restroom in the Arena.
That problem was
immediately eliminated when I noticed that Weber, Munk and Harry were standing
over a drain in the corner and were in the process of unzipping their jeans to
relieve themselves of their Pabst. I instantly followed suit, shrugging my
shoulders, wondering what I had gotten myself into.
I wanna rock and
roll all night and party every day…
Feeling much
better, we made our trek to the Arena in record time and found our seats just
as a nondescript opening act started playing some rather mediocre music. That
was okay; this gave us an opportunity to get to the concession stand to buy
some (you guessed it) more beer!
Back from the
concession stand, we eased back into our seats, with the strong aroma of
Cannabis permeating the air, and were bombarded with extremely loud music,
brilliant pyrotechnics and Gene Simmons’ bloody tongue. Enjoying the show, we
filled our now empty beer cups with the wine we had smuggled in. Beer, my first
concert, more beer and now wine. What more could an 18 year old guy ask for?
I wanna rock and
roll all night and party every day…
After the show
ended we stepped out into the cool Milwaukee night and met up with Sluga and
his “uncle”. After a quick critique of the concert, it was decided that it was
much too early to go back to Kenosha and that we were going to a trendy local
nightspot. Having no say in the matter, I wondered to myself how we were going
to make it work the next day.
The club was an
enormous 2-story structure whose name escapes me. Hey, it was 34 years ago,
what can I say? I do remember Sluga’s “uncle” challenging another guy to a game
of foosball and ripping his shirt open, causing the buttons to fly everywhere.
Oh yes, and we also drank some more beer.
I wanna rock and
roll all night and party every day…
After a couple of
hours, the four of us had had enough and we said good-bye to Sluga and his
“uncle”. Glancing at my watch I noticed it was 1:30 a.m. hopefully I could get
three hours of sleep before work. That idea was quickly put to rest when Harry
announced we need some more beer for the ride home. I just shook my head as
Weber obediently pulled off of the Interstate in pursuit of a new supply of
alcohol.
Finding a
neighborhood tavern, Weber hopped the curb parking on the sidewalk just outside
the front door of the establishment. He quickly jumped out and ran inside. With
a six-pack under his arm, he ran out just as quickly, screaming, “They’re
rednecks! They’re going to kill us!” Our small car sped away into the darkness
just as a large contingent of angry locals emerged from the bar, shaking their
fists.
I wanna rock and
roll all night and party every day…
Relieved that we
had escaped the wrath of the hayseeds that didn’t appreciate our ‘70s
hairstyles, we laughed at our good fortune. There was only one problem – we
didn’t know where the hell we were!
Trying his
damnedest, Weber could not find his way back to I-94. He turned left and we
nearly ended up in Lake Michigan. When he turned around and headed west we
ended up in Greenfield, but we still could not find the Interstate. Something
told me the chance of me getting any sleep before work was rapidly diminishing.
I wanna rock and
roll all night and party every day…
Realizing that we
needed help getting our bearings, we pulled into a George Webb restaurant
complete with its two clocks on the wall. Inside there was a cook, a waitress,
a truck driver and a young couple who promptly departed when they saw us
stumble in. We opted to get something to eat as long as we were getting
directions.
Harry, Weber and
myself chose to have breakfast. So did Munk. Along with breakfast he ordered a
double cheeseburger, French-fries, a chef’s salad, a milk shake and a large
bowl of chicken soup. Evidently he was hungry. Unfortunately he didn’t like the
shade of green that the soup was, because he threw it all over the front window
of the diner.
The rest of the
“meal” must have agreed with Munk because upon completing it he proceeded to
emit one of the largest belches that I have ever been witness to. The colossal
burp obviously impressed the truck driver because he responded with, “That’s
nice.” To which Munk sprung up from his
seat and barked out, “Oh ya! If you don’t like it, step outside with me and my
friends.” Where were we, the old West?
I wanna rock and
roll all night and party every day…
Luckily cooler
heads prevailed and armed with our directions we were finally heading back to
Kenosha. We were going home. Or so I thought. Even though we had just filled
our bellies at George Webb’s, we had a more than an ample supply of alcohol
sloshing around in us as well. The ride home was going to be adventurous to say
the least.
It was at this
point that I realized that I was the only one not in some various stage of
unconsciousness. Regrettably, I wasn’t behind the wheel, Weber was. At one
point he came to long enough to see me looking terrified, clutching onto the
small grab bar located above the passenger door. He merely mumbled that if we
crashed, that wasn’t going to save my ass. I knew he was right, I just prayed
that I didn’t die.
I wanna rock and
roll all night and party every day…
Well, happily I
didn’t die and we miraculously made it home safely sometime after 4:00 a.m. As
you can imagine, none of us made it to work. Not me, not Munk, not Harry, not
Weber, not Sluga. Not even Sluga’s “uncle” made it. Wait, he didn’t work at
Koos, so he was okay. We all caught hell and because of our irresponsible
actions, nobody was allowed to leave work early for the next thirty years.
Management at Koos was tough.
However, when I
eventually did wake up (sometime around noon), I make it over to Midtown
Records and purchased the KISS Alive! album. Until next time…from the booth.
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