Gargling with Razorblades

The early morning hours in New York City are an interesting time. An odd mix of drunks just leaving the bars, homeless people harassing passersby, and others just wandering aimlessly ... escaping reality in some way or other. I guess you could say that I was just experiencing life ... trying to take it all in. Back then I wasn't really sure what I was doing or why but, looking back on it now, it was all a learning experience.

With so many homeless people and other such dregs of society inhabiting the subway cars at night it's hard to believe that I actually spent it riding the rails ... again. Why would someone choose to sleep on the subway? Why would someone choose to take a chance on being mugged, roughed up ... or worse?

Now I sit here wondering exactly how I've gotten to this place and time of my life. It's 4:45 A.M. and the all-night diner is almost deserted, save for the handful of us sitting at our own tables ... pondering our lives, I guess.

Over there by the window sits a scruffy guy, probably in his late 40's, smoking a cigarette and downing what must be his fifth cup of coffee. Every once in a while he sniffles and wipes his nose with the sleeve of his ragged shirt. That might even be a tear forming in his eye. I wonder what brought him here ... oh, who am I kidding? I couldn't possibly care less about this guy. Fuck him!

At the counter is what I can only describe as a very badly made-up drag queen and a friend. Well, it might be a friend ... or it might be a client. Perhaps this is the beginning of some transaction or other between them. The male "friend" graciously lights "her" cigarette...

The sole waitress in this place is sitting at a table as well, reading the paper and picking at her fingernails. She's oblivious to the fact that I could really use another refill right now. What does she care? It's not like this is a place known for its great clientele and great tips. Hah-hahh ... hardly.

I've sat here on many occasions and it always seems to be inhabited by the same people ... doing the same things ... night in, night out. We always seem to be mirror images of the night before ... or the night after. But tonight (or this morning, more accurately) will be different for me. Why? Because for the lack of anything better to do right now I think that I'll start to try to make some sense out of all of this or, at the very least, come up with an entertaining look at the life of an idiot ... me.

It had been a few weeks since we'd lost the apartment but rather than moving back home temporarily I had chosen to live day to day ... night to night. I was never really sure where I'd be sleeping ... of even IF I'd be able to sleep on any given night. Was this because of a bad home life? Hardly ... the parents were actually very giving, concerned, and caring. Yet I couldn't bring myself to going back there again with my tail between my legs, admitting defeat.

My parents had always said that making music a career would be nothing but hardship for me and that I should go back to school ... you know the drill. But, in fact, the band was doing fine (for the most part). We were playing shows regularly, making some money, getting airplay on a few college stations, etc., etc. The only real problem lately was that we'd lost our apartment. Luckily, every one of us could easily go back home ... but I stubbornly chose not to. I opted for what could only be called homelessness.

I would spend my days working (messenger ... who else would hire a long haired musician with an attitude?) and the afternoons at some bar or other enjoying the Happy Hour(s). Yes, the liquor was flowing freely in those days ... as were other illicit substances. Why lie? In hindsight it's obvious that I was an addict.

The evenings were usually spent hanging with the girlfriend at her place (which she shared with her Mom) watching the tube and messing around or with the guys in the band ... usually getting drunk or high, seemingly without a care in the world. Hell ... the sky could be falling and we wouldn't have cared one bit ... as long as it didn't fall on our stash!

Nights? Well, we were rehearsing, playing a show at some dive or other, or getting wasted at home or a bar. Always plenty of booze, drugs, and strippers to go around. So much so that I'm honestly surprised that none of us were faced with an early death. Yes ... we were THAT out of control.

After hanging with the girlfriend and/or the guys (usually the early morning hours) I would go on my own to wherever the dawn would take me. It usually meant a ferry ride to the city. The subway was right at the ferry terminal so the transition from one transport to another was simple. No matter what happened I always did find myself at a place like this ... mulling things over and, at times, feeling sorry for myself. On the other hand there were also many times when I felt like a god, wandering the streets without a care in the world.

I was sitting at this very same table a few days ago and writing in this same little notebook when a very good-looking woman who asked if she could sit with me approached me. Hell ... why not? I could use some company and she might prove to be an interesting diversion ... so, of course, I asked her to sit down.

The waitress stopped at our table and asked if we wanted some refills (an odd occurrence at this place) and we said yes, of course. I sat there for a while just staring at my new friend and trying to get a handle on her. Who was she? What was she doing out here at an ungodly hour like this? It seemed like she was some sort of entertainer or other, judging by her outfit - long red dress and a huge red feather boa. I was about to ask her where she was coming from but she got the first word in.

"So, what brings you here again tonight? I've seen you here a few times before ..."

"Well," I said, "I like this place. I'm here all the time. It's a good spot to just sit and think. I don't think I've seen you here before, though, or if I did I just don't remember you."

"Oh, I'm here all the time as well, " she replied. "I'm sure you've seen me but you wouldn't have noticed. Sometimes I just blend in with the rest of the scenery".

I laughed, "Hahah ... hardly. I think I would have remembered seeing someone like you."

"Maybe," she said, "you never know. Anyway, are you in a band? You look like you might be."

"Yeah, I'm in a band. Assassin Nation. We're a metal band from Staten Island."

"Oh, that's cool. I don't think I've heard of you guys, though, but I'm not really into metal, either."

"Yeah," I continued, "We're doing alright right now. Just opened for Prong at L'Amour's in Brooklyn. Huge crowd. It was a killer show. Too bad you're not into metal."

She then excused herself and disappeared into the corridor, where the pay phones and rest rooms were, as I sat and wrote in my journal. She must have been gone for 15 minutes and I started wondering if maybe this place had a back door and she might have slipped out the back ... leaving me with the tab. Oh hell ... it was just a couple of coffees anyway, so who cares, right? But she did return.

"I have to run," she said, "Have to get home right away. I'd love to keep chatting with you, though. Will you be here tomorrow at this same time?"

"Yeah," I said, "Probably. Sure."

"Well, then maybe tomorrow I'll invite you over to my place for coffee. The coffee here sucks."

With that she gave me a kiss on the cheek and I could smell a very sweet perfume ... and stale cigarette smoke. She waved as she went out of view and I sat there wondering if the following night would be all that I was making it out to be in my mind. It surprised me that I was even considering what might happen with this woman whose name I didn't even know because, quite honestly, I had never cheated on a girlfriend before. I guess that the reason I even considered it now was because the relationship seemed to be on the downside, anyway, and this beautiful creature that I had just encountered intrigued me. Our entire meeting and interaction was reminiscent of some old Cary Grant flick.

I finished my coffee, paid the tab, left a $3 tip, and started walking towards the subway again. I was so into my own thoughts that I didn't even really notice anyone else around me. The streets were starting to fill up at this time with people on their way to cushy Wall Street jobs but I barely paid them any mind. I was trying to decide whether or not to break it off with Janet when I saw her later this morning. Would that be the right thing to do? We'd been dating for little over two years and in that whole time, as I've previously said, I had NEVER considered cheating ... so why now? Was it fair to keep this "relationship" going when thoughts of messing around with another woman were on my mind?

"Hey, asshole! Watch where you're going!"

I was so spaced out that I didn't even notice that I just bumped into some suited bastard and knocked his briefcase on the sidewalk. Instead of apologizing, though, I just responded with my customary, "Go fuck yourself!" and kept on walking. I could hear the bastard continue to yell obscenities my way.

I took the subway to the ferry and headed back "home". Funny, since there currently was no home ... I was on my way to Janet's house. Her Mom would have left for work by the time I got there and we'd have time to hang out for a bit before Janet herself had to leave for work. We had some great times over the past two years in those early morning hours at her place ...

I got off the ferry and got on the local bus, which would drop me off at her place. I always found it cool that I could get on the bus for free by saying that I lost my bus pass and didn't get a new one yet. This was especially funny when you consider that I was around 23 at the time and still passing for a high school kid. Hah-hahh ... the driver assumed that I went to the school that was directly adjacent to Janet's house. What I thought was a decent scam to get a free bus ride ONE day had turned into almost two years' worth of free rides.

On the way to her house I remembered the first time that I'd gone there ...

I had met Janet the night before at a club and we'd made some plans to hang out the following day before she left for work. I got to her house and rang the bell. She yelled from her room that the door was unlocked and she was just getting out of the shower. Told me to go downstairs to the basement and get a couple of drinks for us.

"My Dad built a bar down there. It's pretty cool and there's plenty of beer," she said.

So I went down the stairs. It was a bit dark down there and I had no clue where the light switch was but there was one fluorescent light directly over the bar illuminating an older guy (her Dad?) who was wiping down the counter top.

"Hi," he said. "You must be a friend of Janet's. I'm her Dad. Nice to meet you ..."

He handed me a Heineken and I could hear Janet calling me from upstairs so I said, "Thanks," and "Nice to meet you," and headed back up the stairs.

Janet was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, in the kitchen. She was wearing some tight black jeans, an Iron Maiden t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Yeah ... this was my little Metal queen. One of the first things that I noticed about her at the club the night before was her incredible long hair ... which looked a lot like my own. Hah-hahh ... honestly, from the back we probably looked like twins.

"I met your Dad," I said as I took a swig of the beer. "Seems like a cool guy ..."

She looked a bit puzzled and replied, "You met my Dad? Where?"

"Downstairs," I said. "He gave me the Heineken. Cool."

"Sin ... I'm not sure how to tell you this but ... my Dad's been dead for about 6 years now."

I thought she was joking and told her to stop bullshitting me. Her dad was downstairs and had just handed me a beer. It wasn't some ghostly see-through apparition ... it was a guy as real as her or me. I ran down the stairs to get her Dad and have him fess up to the joke, since it had to be a joke. Janet was obviously trying to fuck with me ... some weird new boyfriend initiation or something. But when I got to the basement there was no one there ... at all.

There was no other way to get out of the basement and no one had come up the steps, either. I was still convinced that it was all just a joke, though, and Janet and I spent the rest of the morning before she had to leave for work discussing the situation. I was adamant that she was fucking with me and she swore that she wasn't.

We drove in her car to the health Food store that she managed. We kissed, made plans for meeting up later that night again, and then she went inside the store as I walked towards the bus. On the way I stopped at a pay phone and called my buddy (and fellow band-mate) Kris.

"Hey, Kris, what's up?"

"Not much, man. How was your day with Janet? Did you fuck her?"

"Oh, shut up, man. Whatever. Listen, you know Janet pretty well. Tell me ... what do you think of her Dad?"

"Her Dad?" Kris asked. " I don't know. I never really met the guy. He was a cop, I know that, but I think he died a couple of years ago".