There it is... This old timey photo of an old timey place means more to me than it does to anyone else you know in the whole entire world.
My car is not seen in this photograph. Nor am I. But I'm in there. And so is my dad. See, my dad, former cut man to Baby Arizmendi, arch enemy of Henry Armstrong, finally left the boxing business and got into the restaurant trade, eventually giving up a very lucrative position at the Mocambo in LA to begin working as a Captain in the Thunderbird showroom. And eventually I got to work summers as a busboy in the showroom. It was extremely exciting for a little Mormon boy who was striving to hold onto his virginity. Boy, did I keep a hold on it...
There was a cigarette girl... She was maybe 5'2", but very full bodied. On Saturday nights we would add a two person table to the end of the eight person tables and it would severely restrict the aisles and if two people met, they would have to squuueeeezzzeeee by one another. In other words, I would have a portion of my body pressed tightly against a portion of her body for up to 1.5 seconds. There was a purity, an almost sacred innocence to this rutting behavior of mine. I would float on clouds of lust, sacred lust, after each 'meeting/meating.'
Later, after my Mission, I tracked her down and apologized. I also asked her out but her husband interrupted and asked me to leave.
I hope each of you has a reservoir of innocence you can draw from during dry periods of excess impurity, and I really, really hope that mangling metaphors doesn't make you grind your teeth.
And no, my confrontation with the Mafia didn't happen here. It was when I worked for two weeks at the Sultan's Table, at the Dunes. I'll get to that eventually.
4 comments:
That was oddly poignant and touching, and not the "show us on the doll" kind I'm used to.
When I was a kid, I offered to help my dad out around the office, but it turns out you have to know a few things to be an epidemiologist, things like where the office is located.
Sometimes the wanting is the best part.
Are you a recovering Mormon like the Lion King?
He didn't hold onto his very well, but did the good boy thing and married her. He 17, she 15. And THAT was better than sinning, somehow.
I am a Recovered Mormon, which is to say, a Laztheist. Return Missionary, BYU grad, married in the Temple. Or as Kat would say, "O la la!"
As to what LK went through, 'don't get me started.'
Post a Comment