Turn the page….
I was going to write about this last night but didn’t feeling like getting to deep. I heard the above song yesterday…and then today. Hearing it once brought up a certain memory then hearing it again today…well….I’ll just tell the damn story.
There is a part in that song that says
“You can feel the eyes upon you as you’re shaking off the cold
you pretend it doesn’t bother you, but you just want to explode.
Most times you can’t hear ‘em talk, other times you can.
Oh the same old cliché, is that woman or a man
you always see out numbered, you don’t dare make a stand.
Me and the two friends that I had at the time drove out to see our friends in a band. We lived in Dallas and they were playing in Sherman. My grandparents lived there and it is defiantly what you can call a “one horse town”.
The band was Naked Zoo and we knew all of them. Actually, Scott was in that band. I blogged about him a while back he’s “the one that got away”.
We drove up on a Saturday night and they were playing at a club on the outskirts of Sherman. We had a blast at the club then all of us partied at the motel afterwards till the wee hours of the morning. We had to get up relatively early because they had to get on the road. They had a gig that night in a town a few hours away.
Now being as hung over as we were we decided to go to Luby’s Cafeteria because goodness knows they have the best breakfast for a hangover…Greasy down home garbage. Love it!
The shirt I had on the night before wasn’t really…ummm…appropriate so Scott lent me one of his which was even more inappropriate but I loved it. It was maroon and in huge bold white letters across the front it said “FUCK OFF”. Mind you, we didn’t consider that it was around noon on a Sunday, in a small town, in the bible belt of America. Yeah, church was over and everyone goes to lunch afterwards.
We didn’t do much to spruce up for the occasion. Us girls still had makeup on from the night before…for that matter, all the guys did too. I mean it was the 80’s, boys in bands then looked better than some of the girls at the club.
So here we come, in all there were 10 of us, jumping out of a huge van. I still remember the front of the restaurant was all windows. The heads slowly started turning. Staring in disgust and amazement as we starting walking towards the restaurant.
Honestly I can’t even imagine the vision of us, a big pack of hung over, long haired glam rock and rollers with hair to our asses (including the guys) not to mention the fuck off t-shirt I had on…with a spandex skirt. Did I mention that?...heh. Also, my friend had barely a shirt on and she was a DD.
The magnitude didn’t really hit us until we actually got into the restaurant. I thought for a second that they were going to tell us to leave but I think the poor girl at the counter was just too shocked. We started down the buffet line, that’s when it started. The whispers, names….I heard devil a couple of times as well as sluts, whores…a couple of May God help them…and of course from the song, are those women or men.
It’s not like we had white sheets over our heads or Swastika symbols carved on our foreheads. Just a little need for some crappy breakfast after having a really crazy night.
When we sat down it continued. It’s amazingly difficult to eat when almost a whole restaurant is looking at you. At one point Terry, the drummer said “let’s fucking blow this place, it’s not worth it”. But since we had already paid and we were all pretty much broke that wasn’t going to happen. One of the roadies said “Well, let’s make the best of it. Let’s act like what they think we are.” All of us got overly animated. We started glaring at people, talking loud and using as much profanity as possible. The manager finally mustarded up enough courage to come over to the table and of all people asked Terry if we could keep it down. He stood up threw his napkin down and said “Fuck it, we’re leaving, we’re too fucking good for this place anyway.”
We all got up and left.
You would think that we walked out laughing, but we didn’t. We were actually quite surprised. When you live in a metropolitan city, you tend to forget that there are still people out there that are not raised to think outside of their world.
Discrimination- Such an ugly fucking word. And maybe I’m doing the same thing by talking about them, but I wasn’t the one calling them names just because of the way they looked or their actions….and when I say “them” I mean the people in the restaurant, I don't mean it in a derogatory sense.
The funny thing is…it’s not like we stayed up all night shooting heroin…just drank a helluv a lot of beer. There was no sex. We just all hung out and had a fucking great time. But that whole fucking restaurant thought that the devil had come to Sherman on a Sunday afternoon. All we wanted was breakfast.
Every time I hear that song I think about that day….
I also think about how much I wanted that fucking shirt….heh.
There is a part in that song that says
“You can feel the eyes upon you as you’re shaking off the cold
you pretend it doesn’t bother you, but you just want to explode.
Most times you can’t hear ‘em talk, other times you can.
Oh the same old cliché, is that woman or a man
you always see out numbered, you don’t dare make a stand.
Me and the two friends that I had at the time drove out to see our friends in a band. We lived in Dallas and they were playing in Sherman. My grandparents lived there and it is defiantly what you can call a “one horse town”.
The band was Naked Zoo and we knew all of them. Actually, Scott was in that band. I blogged about him a while back he’s “the one that got away”.
We drove up on a Saturday night and they were playing at a club on the outskirts of Sherman. We had a blast at the club then all of us partied at the motel afterwards till the wee hours of the morning. We had to get up relatively early because they had to get on the road. They had a gig that night in a town a few hours away.
Now being as hung over as we were we decided to go to Luby’s Cafeteria because goodness knows they have the best breakfast for a hangover…Greasy down home garbage. Love it!
The shirt I had on the night before wasn’t really…ummm…appropriate so Scott lent me one of his which was even more inappropriate but I loved it. It was maroon and in huge bold white letters across the front it said “FUCK OFF”. Mind you, we didn’t consider that it was around noon on a Sunday, in a small town, in the bible belt of America. Yeah, church was over and everyone goes to lunch afterwards.
We didn’t do much to spruce up for the occasion. Us girls still had makeup on from the night before…for that matter, all the guys did too. I mean it was the 80’s, boys in bands then looked better than some of the girls at the club.
So here we come, in all there were 10 of us, jumping out of a huge van. I still remember the front of the restaurant was all windows. The heads slowly started turning. Staring in disgust and amazement as we starting walking towards the restaurant.
Honestly I can’t even imagine the vision of us, a big pack of hung over, long haired glam rock and rollers with hair to our asses (including the guys) not to mention the fuck off t-shirt I had on…with a spandex skirt. Did I mention that?...heh. Also, my friend had barely a shirt on and she was a DD.
The magnitude didn’t really hit us until we actually got into the restaurant. I thought for a second that they were going to tell us to leave but I think the poor girl at the counter was just too shocked. We started down the buffet line, that’s when it started. The whispers, names….I heard devil a couple of times as well as sluts, whores…a couple of May God help them…and of course from the song, are those women or men.
It’s not like we had white sheets over our heads or Swastika symbols carved on our foreheads. Just a little need for some crappy breakfast after having a really crazy night.
When we sat down it continued. It’s amazingly difficult to eat when almost a whole restaurant is looking at you. At one point Terry, the drummer said “let’s fucking blow this place, it’s not worth it”. But since we had already paid and we were all pretty much broke that wasn’t going to happen. One of the roadies said “Well, let’s make the best of it. Let’s act like what they think we are.” All of us got overly animated. We started glaring at people, talking loud and using as much profanity as possible. The manager finally mustarded up enough courage to come over to the table and of all people asked Terry if we could keep it down. He stood up threw his napkin down and said “Fuck it, we’re leaving, we’re too fucking good for this place anyway.”
We all got up and left.
You would think that we walked out laughing, but we didn’t. We were actually quite surprised. When you live in a metropolitan city, you tend to forget that there are still people out there that are not raised to think outside of their world.
Discrimination- Such an ugly fucking word. And maybe I’m doing the same thing by talking about them, but I wasn’t the one calling them names just because of the way they looked or their actions….and when I say “them” I mean the people in the restaurant, I don't mean it in a derogatory sense.
The funny thing is…it’s not like we stayed up all night shooting heroin…just drank a helluv a lot of beer. There was no sex. We just all hung out and had a fucking great time. But that whole fucking restaurant thought that the devil had come to Sherman on a Sunday afternoon. All we wanted was breakfast.
Every time I hear that song I think about that day….
I also think about how much I wanted that fucking shirt….heh.
posted by iamfallingfromgrace at 10:36 PM
5 Comments:
i used to hang out with a lot of punks and people thought we worshipped satan, had massive orgies, had needles hanging from our arms. oh yeah.. and were vampires. i actually was grounded for 2 weeks because my mom thought i was a vampire. so dumb. "she's a vampire. damnit, honey, we better ground her." hahah actually, most of them didn't even drink.
i love the word "fuck" so much that its incorporated on the knuckles of one of the tattoo demons on my chest.
it expresses everything and nothing.
What happened to the shirt?
Minn...we do need to ground your mother...for reasons so much greater than that one. heh.
Megaton...that my friend is devotion to a word, I respect that. Fuck is truly my favorite word, the english language just wouldn't be the same without it.
Otis...the shirt left with him...as did my heart.
Greets to the webmaster of this wonderful site! Keep up the good work. Thanks.
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