dodraibeid

So's You know, Reefer Madness, the Movie Musical, is the most wonderful thing ever committed to film, except for Life is Beautiful.

I'll tell you all about it, when I get around to feeling like it. For now, though, I'll just put up the beginning of a story that I'm not sure if I'm going to finish. It'll be about moving to MA and what I did while I was there. Tell me if I should bother finishing it.

This is why I moved

Summer of Falling Down
Part One
Unless I don't finish it.
Then it'll be Part Only

During my freshman year in college I got a job at a restaurant called Dome. It was one of those overly modern places that tried way too hard to seem hip and edgy despite the fact that it was smack dab in the middle of the suburbs. We had to wear black pants, a black t-shirt with the restaurants logo on the back (Wow! The logos on the back! How hip and edgy!), and a bright blue napkin tucked into the side of our pants. The owners encouraged individuality in their staff by allowing us to choose which side we wore it on. The money wasnt great, but I was living at home, so I didnt really care.
I took off work one night to go to my old high school to see my friend Matt in a play with some other friends. I think it was You Cant Take It With You, or something. It was one of those plays all of the high schools in the area took turns doing, like Grease or Bye Bye Birdie! When it was over, we were waiting at the loading dock behind the school for Matt to come out. Over my shoulder I heard, Seth?
It was Tammy, a girl that I had directed in a play my senior year. For some reason, I didnt feel like exchanging polite hellos with a person that I never expected to see again, so instead I asked her to go make out. She politely declined, opting instead to give me a kiss on the cheek and her phone number. She got in her car and drove away and Matt emerged a short time later. After the requisite Good jobs and God, you were funnys, I went home and went to bed.

It wasnt until three weeks later that I found Tammys phone number under a pile of crap on my desk. It was a further three weeks before I bothered to call her. She sounded upset. You sound upset. I said.
My boyfriend just dumped me. was the shaky reply.
I hadnt expected this at all. I called her to see if she wanted to get coffee. My freshman year was spent almost exclusively in coffee shops and diners. Time was spent reading, writing, talking, drinking cup after cup until it came tome to go home, lie in bed, and vibrate until I passed out. Completely blindsided, I said the only thing I could think of. Wow. Um, that sucks. Sounds like you need coffee.
Yeah That sounds nice. She said.
We met up at a coffee shop and she told me the whole story. It was pretty standard as far as breakups that occur for absolutely no reason at all go. They were sitting on the couch watching television and he told her he didnt want to see her anymore. She asked why, he gave her a bunch of rather cruel its not me, its you bullshit, she cried, I sipped my coffee and nodded my head while grunting sympathetically. We had a nice time, considering. We had coffee a few more times, we took a few walks in the park, and a few minor details later, we started dating.

Meanwhile, Id gotten a second job cooking at a restaurant near campus called Caf Toscana. It was a decent job, the hours were nice, and the staff was cool. We were pretty unified in hating the owner, a twenty-two year old horses ass named Ryan who had gotten backing from his parents as a graduation gift. The problem wasnt that he was a jerk; he absolutely was, but the primary issue was that Ryan was a moron. Any time he came into the kitchen, he was chased out by the chef for fear that hed start talking. He didnt know how to cook, but that never stopped him from trying to teach us. No one paid any attention when hed start talking about the proper way to grill a portabella mushroom, but he always made us eat the food he cooked. Not only was it a waste, but also, forcing marginally discontented employees to eat charred portabella mushrooms is a good way to ensure that theyll become very disgruntled employees.
One of the perks of the job was watching him get yelled at by whichever waitress he was sleeping with that week. See, Ryan only hired very attractive, Mediterranean- looking girls as wait staff. Due to the fact that he wasnt very good at hiding the fact that he was engaging in intimate congress with several of them during any given time period, once every few weeks or so one of the girls would realize that she wasnt his one and only and respond by slapping him in the face in the middle of the restaurant and screaming at him in front of the customers. For some bizarre reason, this didnt seem to hurt business too much.

All in all, I was having a pretty decent freshman year. Tammy started working behind the counter at Caf Toscana so we could spend a little more time together, and Ryan gave the entire kitchen staff a raise because we hid him in the freezer when a frothing waitress came in threatening to cut off his balls. Life was good.
After school ended, Ryan offered me a job working at his fruit stand hed opened. He prided himself on only using fresh produce in the restaurant, and he meant it. Every morning hed bring vegetables in to the restaurant that he got from a farm downstate. He got the idea to buy extra fruit and have us sit on the side of the road and sell it. It was an interesting proposition, and I took him up on it.
I started having pretty hectic weekends after that. I was still working at Dome, so at four oclock on Friday afternoon Id clock in and for the next forty-eight hours, I was at work. Id leave Dome at ten and meet Jeremy, the other cook cum fruit salesman, at Caf Toscana and pick up the truck we used to haul the fruit back from the farm. Id drive down to the farm and wait six hours for the farm to open. Wed then load up the truck, drive to the restaurant, drop off the food for that day, and drive the remainder off to the side of Rt. 896 and spend the day sipping whiskey out of a hip flask and beating on watermelons, pretending to know which ones were ripe and which werent. At sundown wed pack up the truck, and Id head over to the caf to work the dinner shift until close at midnight. Then Id jump into the truck with Jeremy, drive to the farm, and repeat the process. Id leave the fruit stand at around three in the afternoon to work another shift at Dome before passing out for the next fifteen hours. At age eighteen, this was probably the best possible existence for me. Unfortunately, all Hell broke loose and nothing went the way I thought it would.

Tammy and I had planned to go on vacation to Cape Cod. Im sure it would have been a wonderful trip for the two of us, had all that Hell refrained from breaking loose. Her ex-boyfriend, the wanker that dumped her with such bad form, had a change of heart and had set out to win her back, and he told her so. Being the forgiving type, Tammy started a friendship with him and set very clear boundaries: she was not going to go back to him, but as long as he behaved and didnt act like a total douche-bag, than he could hang out with her. Being not so much the forgiving type, I was not happy about this. After a few hostile encounters, Tammy learned that she had to keep us separated. It got to the point where the mere mention of his name made me grimace. I also had the misguided stance that, as I was her boyfriend and had never put her in a position where she was forced to drink coffee and spill her guts to an acquaintance of the most casual type, I should take priority over an obnoxious prick that could not boast such credentials. This line of thinking led to problems.
All of this came to a head one day when I was over her house playing Mortal Kombat with her and her little brother when Mr. Wonderful showed up. He wanted Tammy to go with him to pet store with him to get some dog food or some other such inane thing that didnt require her presence, or even warrant it, really. I kept my mouth shut while he was in the room so as not to stir up shit, which I certainly would have done had I opened my mouth. I was a pretty annoyed that he was even there in the first place, and even more so when she said wed go. I really hated it when she volunteered me for stuff without asking me. I went upstairs to get my boots, grumbling to myself about how much I cant stand that dumb motherfucker and I hope he eats tainted pork and goes into a coma and such. When I came back downstairs, Tammy was standing at the foot of the steps, waiting for me. Hey, is there any way that, um, you could, ah, not come?
I was sure I hadnt heard correctly. What? I said.
Well, hes kind of intimidated by you, and I dont want him to feel uncomfortable. She said.
I was sure I hadnt heard correctly. What? I said again.
Come on, Seth, please? Hes really uncomfortable around you. Hes afraid youre going to like, kick his ass or something.
Bullshit. He knows me well enough to know I wouldnt do that in front of witnesses not matter how much I hate his guts. I was getting more pissed off by the second, but I was trying to keep my cool.
Very funny, smartass.
Look, honey. All Im saying is that only a half-wit or a liar would say they are afraid of me. I dont remember the last time I did anything that even approached violence, let alone, kicked someones ass.
Are you calling him a liar? she asked. I could tell she was starting to get irritated.
I didnt say that. I said hes either a liar or a half-wit. I dont know which one. He might be both.
Youre being an asshole, Seth.
When I was eighteen, there were a lot of things I didnt know. I didnt know, for instance, that when a woman is pissed off at you, it is a very bad idea to point out the obvious. Particularly when the obvious isnt something she wants to openly acknowledge. If Im an asshole, what does that make the guy outside thats so desperate to fuck my girlfriend that hell tell her hes afraid of me just to get her alone with him?
Are you saying that hes only hanging out with me because he wants to fuck me? she asked, growing more furious by the second.
Another thing I didnt know: When youre arguing with a woman who is very, very pissed off at you, it is critical that you think before you speak. In retrospect, the proper thing to do in this instance would have been to apologize and rephrase my previous statement in a less confrontational manner. The incorrect thing to do would be to open my mouth and say what I said. . . . Yes.
Get out of here. Now. She said.
I could tell by the fact that her eyes had narrowed to slits and her voice made me feel like I needed a parka despite the June weather that this was not up for discussion. But because Im an idiot, I felt like I should keep talking. Okay then. Ill call you later.
Dont.
Okay. Will you call me then?
No.
Well, then how am I supposed to talk to you?
You arent.
Im confused.
Goodbye, Seth.
On the drive home, I was still confused. I wasnt really sure what had happened at Tammys house, but I was pretty sure I had just gotten dumped. Turns out that that was the only thing I was right about that day.