Alright folks once again it's story time. A few words up front. One this tale has no point, no morals, and is pretty much just rambling. Two I didn't change the names to protect the innocent because it would be less funny. And they'd figure out who they are anyway. So without anymore introduction here's:
The first time I ever drove in LA
It was a brand new millinium, and I was freshly graduated from the school of the arts. As such my class and I were packed off to LA to be introduced to the film community out there. I'm not sure why. Maybe so they could hire us. I proably should have asked about this but I didn't. Anyway the cool thing about this trip was that we were sent to parties and all sorts of places, we had our films screened at Fox Studios and for a week we were treated like we actually meant something. Basically they were blowing smoke up our asses, but we were having too much fun to care.
One night we went tothis party at our of our faculty members houses. I caught a ride over with this kid I knew who had rented this '99 Mustang convetible. So I wrangled a ride over to the party with him. the party itself was unmemorable, afterwards however I found myself out in the yard talking to the guy who directed Trkkies. I know, random. I also had lost my ride. Unbeknownst to me I had also been elected to be a designated driver. Which would have been a good thing to know before I started drinking. I find myself now at the curb with my passengers. John Crumpton and Robby Dogget, and my new ride. A 1981 K car convertible. In less than mint conditon.
Now a word on two of these three things.
Crumpton. Possibly the unhealthiest man the world has ever seen. Certainly the unhealthiest man I ever met. One of the first stories he ever told me was of waking up in an airport in Costa Rica with $3k dollars in cash and no idea how he got there. At 37 years of age he had the following conditions or ailments:
He was diabetic
He had emphysema
He'd had several heart attacks.
Two thirds of his heart muscle was supposedly dead.
He smoked two packs of Camel unfiltereds a day.
He was missing his right leg from the knee down.
I think that's everything.
He also spoke in this raspy southern accent that once you heard it, you never forgot it.A few of us could do dead on immitaions of him. When he sat behind you in a theater you could hear his labored breathing over the film. And he had been known to stop classes with his coughing fits.
Depite all of this he was a character and a helluva nice guy. Which mde me feel bad for getting into the class pool to see if he'd live until graduation. I lost by the way.
Doggett, was 36 or 37. and was a big bluff hearty Southern guy who said, " Hey buddy" a lot. He was chiefly famous for being one of the nicest guys you'd ever meet, and for once being on the Gong Show.
The car was just a piece of shit.
But it was going to have to do. All I had to do was get these guys, who were drunker than me, back to the hotel we were staying at. We were a block off Sunset. The hotel was in Westwood on Wilshire. Pretty simple. We got in the he car, a case of Ghrolsch, two joints, five legs and half a brain between us.
First off Doggett who lived in LA years before decides we need to take a drive on Mulholland since we have all this booze, and it'd be a damn shame to waste it. Mullholland drive is the one that winds itself around the mountains just to the East of LA proper. Behind theat Hollywood sign. It's also two movies by the same name. It was not the most direct way to go.
Crumpton decided that on the way we needed to swing over to Hollywood and Vine and pick up some hookers. Keep in mind that at this time he was waving his fake leg at the passerby. I fervently nixed the idea for several reasons:
I didn't want to get picked up for DUI, soliciting, and possesion, with these guys and a K car.
I also was a fraid Crumpton would give out mid coitus, or possibly mid handjob.
It was just too damn tacky.
On we went. The Holly woodfree way was a bit of a challenge with a car that wouldn't go above 45, dogget sitting on the rear deack like a fat redneck prom queen, and Crumpton waving his leg to the other drivers. Even for La we were a spectacle.
Fortuately we only had to go a couple of exits. Unfortunately I had to cross six lanes of traffic to get there. Dogget yelling at the other drivers to back off and at the same time yelling to me, " Come on buddy, one more lane. We can do it!" Crumpton taking a swipe at a passing Ford Excursion with his leg.
How we got off that exit I'll never know. But we did, and we wound up Mullholland drive. Every now and then we'd stop and admire the view back towards LA and the downtown. We'd stop and pullover for a moment. pass the joint around, wait for Crumpton to hack one of his lungs up on to the dasboard, and kock back a beer. Never stopping long enough for the police to pull over this traveling freakshow.
Along the way Dggett would occasionall point to some house set back from the road, " That there's Jack Nicholson's house!" or I think Warren Beatty lived over there." or " Oh, man buddy this is a helluva view." Crumpton would wheeze his agreement, and I just kept my eyes on the road.
Finally I said, " So doggett. How do we get back from here. I mean it's great that that's where the Pointer Sisters once lived, but where are we?" Doggett though for a moment and said, " Man buddy. I don't know." To which Crumpton wheezed out, " Oh man." Doggett thought agian, " I suppose any left hand turn will take us down off this mountain, buddy." Which, while it's probably true, isn't much of a help. So I just kept on heading down the road. hoping to find a street I recognized in a town I'd never been in before.
With a quarter tank of gas, and less than half a case of beer left. God shit me a miracle. i passed thhrough the intersection of Beverly Glen and Mulholland drive. And for some lucky reason I remembered Beverly Glen came out right near the hotel. Dogget was right a left hand turn would get us down the mountain. So we wound our way down Beverly Glen hoping to land on Whilshire, and we were not disapointed. I figured if we got lost the cops would eventually find us, and our only contingency plan was for Crumpton to hit them with his fake lag, have him feign a heart attack, or suffer a real one otherwise we were screwed.
We found the hotel. We pulled in right ahead of our dean. who luckily was as drunk as Crumpton and Doggett and more drunk than me. It didn't help our case that empties kept falling out of the car as we got out, or theat Crumpton fell over putting his leg back on.
The dean looked us over and said, " What took you guys so long? " I replied, " Well, we took Mulholland drive." " All the way?" " Pretty near, yeah." There was a pause. " You haven't been drinking have you? " " In a city I've never driven in before? That'd be nuts." Doggett hollared over his shoulder as he walked into the hotel. " Don't worry buddy. I already grabbed the beer!"
I don't know what the point of this story was. It's fun to write. It's even more fun to tell when I can do everyone's voices. I don't hold with driving drunk by the way, but sometimes I 'm a victim of circumstance.
The first time I ever drove in LA
It was a brand new millinium, and I was freshly graduated from the school of the arts. As such my class and I were packed off to LA to be introduced to the film community out there. I'm not sure why. Maybe so they could hire us. I proably should have asked about this but I didn't. Anyway the cool thing about this trip was that we were sent to parties and all sorts of places, we had our films screened at Fox Studios and for a week we were treated like we actually meant something. Basically they were blowing smoke up our asses, but we were having too much fun to care.
One night we went tothis party at our of our faculty members houses. I caught a ride over with this kid I knew who had rented this '99 Mustang convetible. So I wrangled a ride over to the party with him. the party itself was unmemorable, afterwards however I found myself out in the yard talking to the guy who directed Trkkies. I know, random. I also had lost my ride. Unbeknownst to me I had also been elected to be a designated driver. Which would have been a good thing to know before I started drinking. I find myself now at the curb with my passengers. John Crumpton and Robby Dogget, and my new ride. A 1981 K car convertible. In less than mint conditon.
Now a word on two of these three things.
Crumpton. Possibly the unhealthiest man the world has ever seen. Certainly the unhealthiest man I ever met. One of the first stories he ever told me was of waking up in an airport in Costa Rica with $3k dollars in cash and no idea how he got there. At 37 years of age he had the following conditions or ailments:
He was diabetic
He had emphysema
He'd had several heart attacks.
Two thirds of his heart muscle was supposedly dead.
He smoked two packs of Camel unfiltereds a day.
He was missing his right leg from the knee down.
I think that's everything.
He also spoke in this raspy southern accent that once you heard it, you never forgot it.A few of us could do dead on immitaions of him. When he sat behind you in a theater you could hear his labored breathing over the film. And he had been known to stop classes with his coughing fits.
Depite all of this he was a character and a helluva nice guy. Which mde me feel bad for getting into the class pool to see if he'd live until graduation. I lost by the way.
Doggett, was 36 or 37. and was a big bluff hearty Southern guy who said, " Hey buddy" a lot. He was chiefly famous for being one of the nicest guys you'd ever meet, and for once being on the Gong Show.
The car was just a piece of shit.
But it was going to have to do. All I had to do was get these guys, who were drunker than me, back to the hotel we were staying at. We were a block off Sunset. The hotel was in Westwood on Wilshire. Pretty simple. We got in the he car, a case of Ghrolsch, two joints, five legs and half a brain between us.
First off Doggett who lived in LA years before decides we need to take a drive on Mulholland since we have all this booze, and it'd be a damn shame to waste it. Mullholland drive is the one that winds itself around the mountains just to the East of LA proper. Behind theat Hollywood sign. It's also two movies by the same name. It was not the most direct way to go.
Crumpton decided that on the way we needed to swing over to Hollywood and Vine and pick up some hookers. Keep in mind that at this time he was waving his fake leg at the passerby. I fervently nixed the idea for several reasons:
I didn't want to get picked up for DUI, soliciting, and possesion, with these guys and a K car.
I also was a fraid Crumpton would give out mid coitus, or possibly mid handjob.
It was just too damn tacky.
On we went. The Holly woodfree way was a bit of a challenge with a car that wouldn't go above 45, dogget sitting on the rear deack like a fat redneck prom queen, and Crumpton waving his leg to the other drivers. Even for La we were a spectacle.
Fortuately we only had to go a couple of exits. Unfortunately I had to cross six lanes of traffic to get there. Dogget yelling at the other drivers to back off and at the same time yelling to me, " Come on buddy, one more lane. We can do it!" Crumpton taking a swipe at a passing Ford Excursion with his leg.
How we got off that exit I'll never know. But we did, and we wound up Mullholland drive. Every now and then we'd stop and admire the view back towards LA and the downtown. We'd stop and pullover for a moment. pass the joint around, wait for Crumpton to hack one of his lungs up on to the dasboard, and kock back a beer. Never stopping long enough for the police to pull over this traveling freakshow.
Along the way Dggett would occasionall point to some house set back from the road, " That there's Jack Nicholson's house!" or I think Warren Beatty lived over there." or " Oh, man buddy this is a helluva view." Crumpton would wheeze his agreement, and I just kept my eyes on the road.
Finally I said, " So doggett. How do we get back from here. I mean it's great that that's where the Pointer Sisters once lived, but where are we?" Doggett though for a moment and said, " Man buddy. I don't know." To which Crumpton wheezed out, " Oh man." Doggett thought agian, " I suppose any left hand turn will take us down off this mountain, buddy." Which, while it's probably true, isn't much of a help. So I just kept on heading down the road. hoping to find a street I recognized in a town I'd never been in before.
With a quarter tank of gas, and less than half a case of beer left. God shit me a miracle. i passed thhrough the intersection of Beverly Glen and Mulholland drive. And for some lucky reason I remembered Beverly Glen came out right near the hotel. Dogget was right a left hand turn would get us down the mountain. So we wound our way down Beverly Glen hoping to land on Whilshire, and we were not disapointed. I figured if we got lost the cops would eventually find us, and our only contingency plan was for Crumpton to hit them with his fake lag, have him feign a heart attack, or suffer a real one otherwise we were screwed.
We found the hotel. We pulled in right ahead of our dean. who luckily was as drunk as Crumpton and Doggett and more drunk than me. It didn't help our case that empties kept falling out of the car as we got out, or theat Crumpton fell over putting his leg back on.
The dean looked us over and said, " What took you guys so long? " I replied, " Well, we took Mulholland drive." " All the way?" " Pretty near, yeah." There was a pause. " You haven't been drinking have you? " " In a city I've never driven in before? That'd be nuts." Doggett hollared over his shoulder as he walked into the hotel. " Don't worry buddy. I already grabbed the beer!"
I don't know what the point of this story was. It's fun to write. It's even more fun to tell when I can do everyone's voices. I don't hold with driving drunk by the way, but sometimes I 'm a victim of circumstance.
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
cybele:
A horse, hunh? Guess maybe the poor creature had a bad heart, too... 
catiedid:
You never let your fans down. Oh to witness the traveling freak show first hand. How does one man (barely 30 no less) have so many and such fantastic stories? As always, thank you for sharing!