stinky rotten Halloween

Hi there,

I had to search through the recycle bin for a Jake posting, that I could cop a link from and find my way back here. So thanks Jake, for keeping this forum in good working order while everyone was else was just partying their summertime asses off. Yeah, I tend to overlook the blog, when we get busy doing stuff, and without the emails for blog postings coming in that often I barely even thought about this all summer. sorry!

So here it is October 31st 1979, I had turned 19 the month before, and some of you may remember that the drinking age was 19 in Idaho back then. So, yes it was Halloween, and I was drunk as a goblin, or a witch, or any of the ghouls  that had just taken too many tequila shots, and was trying to make it home before puke fell on their shoes. No car, meant no drunk driving, and unfortunately no ride meant a horrible long drunken  walk home. In those days I lived in Coeur d' Alene close to the end of Sherman Ave. so I had to choose between the cross town route or take my chances walking along I-90 which would be pretty dangerous at night in the rain. With a belly full of the gold invincibility juice, I decided it would be the I-90 trek, to Sherman then home to bed. Who knows maybe I'd even get a ride. 

By the time I made it to 7th street I was starting to think that I made a mistake, because many cars passing by were catching me with spray. I was wet and cold, and drunk, and nobody in their right mind would ever stop and let me in their car to soak up their seats. I reached 15th street, and could have left the freeway and walked the surface streets till I made it home, but once again the Jose Cuervo convinced me to stay the course. He asked me how much worse could it get at this point, already soaked, besides the rain had just let up. 

Now I'm getting close to Sherman Ave. and the sky is starting to clear, but the puddles are still full and I have to stay close to the guardrail to keep from getting sprayed by passing cars. As I start to walk down the long off ramp at Sherman Ave. a semi truck swerves over close to me and just drenches me with muddy water. Not an accident, as I soon realized when he took several short blasts on the air horn, in an attempt to rub it in. Oh yes, that trucker really got me good, but I could see him pulling into the truck stop on Sherman Ave. and if there was a god above I'd get my revenge for that terrible and malicious act. That bastard would not get away with that. I had to find something to throw at him, but what? Searching the ground, I found a big rock, and for a few seconds I entertained the thought of putting it through his windshield. It was too big and too heavy and I had about 200 yards to go to catch up to him, and I didn't want to carry it that far. OK, not the rock, but what? Then, in the single small patch of moonlight coming through a hole in the breaking clouds I see it. A perfect grade- A, extra large white egg. An egg just sitting on the side of the off ramp, what are the odds? A perfect projectile for a pissed of drunk to use on the semi that caused him so much anguish. At least, that is what that Jose Cuervo cat was telling me. How could this be more perfect, someone, somehow placed an egg on the side of the off ramp so I could have my revenge. And have it I would, and I picked up the egg, perfect, I cradled it in my palm as I made my way to the truck stop. Soon I was watching that dirty scum sucking scoundrel trucker entering the the building, leaving his truck alone for me to do what I felt needed to be done, to make me whole again. It would be so glorious and so perfect true retribution, a horrible act against me when I was minding my own business, the need for revenge,,the egg, come on how could this be more perfect? When I thought it was safe to come out of the shadows, I made a quick break for it. I reared back and threw that egg as hard as I could, at the windshield of the truck. Yeah,,, it broke in my hand and completely douched me with rotten stinking egg. The smell alone was bad enough that I was convinced that the egg had obviously been left there on the side of the freeway off ramp  at least three Halloweens before. 

The moral of the story!?? Yeah, there has to be a moral of the story. I guess just pick one, "Don't walk on the freeway", "Never throw eggs",, Oh I know,,, "Always drink responsibly." Right, I was 19, drunk on tequila, "Drink responsibly" was unheard of.  In my youth I preferred the drink out of control and compound that with one bad choice after another. Sometimes that worked for me but other times I was just left with egg on my face.