Hey Leave No Doubt, you liked my Pats-Phins MNF story the night John Lennon was shot? Thank you.
Here's another story loosely related to this thread. It DOES have a Patriots connection. Okay, ready?
I was at the old Pats stadium (a.k.a. Shaeffer, Sullivan, Foxboro) at the Grateful Dead show. The one on July 2nd, 1989. (Gee, look at that. Exactly 21 years ago today. Unintended, btw.) As a matter of fact, the only two times I've been to Foxboro were the two times The Dead played there. 1st time Dead & Dylan on the 4th of July in 1987, and this time, 2 years later.
Anyway, (this ties into the debate on intoxication levels in relation to operating a motor vehicle. Bear with me, my writing is always long-winded) Anyway, I was pretty strung out back then at 22 years old. Hey, I was pretty much supposed to be anyway. I ran an independent record label in NYC for 17 years (between 21-38 years of age), so having a substance abuse problem is kinda a PREREQUISITE for being in the Rock & Roll business. So, I did about $100 of smack after the show and drove overnight to Ithaca, N.Y., fully intending to pick up my girlfriend and head to Rich Stadium to catch the Dead show the next night with her.
BUT...
As I pulled into Ithaca at SUNRISE the next morning, all blissing-out, with my brain producing whole lotta endorphins due to that load of smack I snorted the night before in Sullivan Stadium's gravel parking lot , I noticed a POLICE BLOCKADE up ahead on the interstate running into downtown Ithaca. So, I get all "Wtf is that all about?" and I stash my stash in the front pocket of my freaking purple overalls (lol). Hey, I WAS on a freaking Grateful Dead tour, after all. Purple? Yeah, freaking purple. And I must say, I was to die for in 'em. I was a Hippy-dippy, long-haired, articulate, yet a little bit lost, cutie-pie. The state troopers were checking each car for something. Hell if I knew what it was about. SO... when they finally got to me, they opened up my freaking door and threw me up on tha front hood... lol... purple overalls and all.
Holy geebus! So, (with me so far? Glad you bothered to read down this far?) So, I go,"Holy crap. What in tha heck is this all about officer? I THINK YOU HAVE THE WRONG GUY! ima just comin' into town this fine morning to pick up ma chick to shuffle on off to Buffalo."
Well, and you'll love this...
The State trooper goes,"Nope. We got the right guy. Your father called us up last night and said you've STOLEN the extra car in the driveway to go on your Grateful Dead adventure. So, with your father's help, we estimated what time you were likely to be driving into town on this exact interstate road. Pretty astute calculation, huh? You're right on your E.T.A. (Well, at least I did THAT right.lol.) Anyway, You're being charged with VEHICULAR THEFT, a felony. Put your hands behind your back."
AHHHH NOOOOO! (LOL! Ahh, memories. lol.)
BUT, that's not all. Tha coppers gimme the requisite pat down and guess what? Yep, a whole lotta smack plops outta my cute little chest pocket in the purple overalls. AHHHHH NOOOOOOO!!!!! (Man, I'm on the floor right now, but I was so discouraged when that last part happened back then. My whole Sex, Drugs, and Rock And Roll 4th of July weekend was ruined!!! Bwah!!
So, the cop goes,"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" I go,"I dunno exactly WHAT that is." And it's a GOOD thing I said that because back at the lab, the cops couldn't exactly pin down what the powder was because their drug testing was screwed up or something. I didn't get charged for it! Niiiiice.
So, they put me in jail in Ithaca. I call my dad with a resounding,"WTF!!!! THANKS A LOT!" He (probably laughing inside) goes,"See what you get for borrowing the spare car without permission? I think I'll let you cool your heels in tha clink for a few days and I'll mosey (mosi? lol.) mosey on up there, drop the charges and we can have a nice weekend going to The Baseball Hall Of Fame, nearby up there in Cooperstown."
Well, under normal circumstances I'd have been into go g to the Hall and all, BUTTTTT.... I had a hella smack habit and I was jonesing out tha wazooo. I wanted nuthin' to do with baseball. The only ball I wanted to see would prolly have been a SPEEDball.
I tell my dad,"Oh, dad? Btw, there's ANOTHER charge you don't know about. Possession." He goes,"Oh yeah???? Of WHAT!!" (Gee, I guess THAT threw a wrench into the works of his nice father-son Baseball Hall weekend, huh?) I said,"Uhhhhh.... an "as of yet unidentified" opiate, well, that's what the cops are callin' it right now." A creative way for your father to find out his son is strung out on "you know". Hey, it was HIS doing, right? If he'd have not set this whole madness into motion with that dang phone call to tha freakig cops, we'd not be having this conversation. (how's that for addict thinking? lol.)
ANYway, long-story-short, #1. he comes and bails me out. #2. We go to The Hall. I remember seeing George Brett's pine tar bat. That was pretty cool. #3. He drives me back down to NYC, my home since 1986. #4. I score some desperately needed smack to get rid of one of the most painful jones ever #5. It's now a week later and the Dead freaking kinda FOLLOWED me down to my city to welcome me back from jail. That was so nice of them. lol. #6. During the LAST song of the show, I FINALLY bump into my girlfriend on the field in the end zone! (prolly kinda near the spot Randy Moss skipped into, thus simultaneously breaking both the reception and touchdown pass records, 18 years later.) She blurts out,"Where THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN!!! Geebus!"
#7. I go,"Darlin', It's a long story. And what a long, strange trip it's been."
#8. I finally got my sex to go along with my drugs & Rock and Roll.
#9. I felt exhausted and checked into my first rehab a few days later.
So, what's the moral of the story, my patient fellow Pats fans????
That yes indeed, one CAN drive for hours on end at high speeds on a really nice feeling load of opiates. That's what.
Debate officially settled. rotf.
(Hey, come to think of it, maybe Phil Simms called the police up and did the same thing to his son which my dad did to me! I betcha it was a "Phil Simms Intervention" on his delinquent footbawl chuckin' loon of a son!
I slay myself.
"Whatchoo Talkin' Bout, Kontradiction?"
