Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Rocky Horror Picture No

If you've come to this post expecting a glowing nostalgic romp about this cult movie classic of the 70's I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed.

Truth is, I've never seen this movie. And frankly never will.

Let's travel back in time. The year was…oh, that's not important. I had just got out of my junior year in college. I knew I'd be working for the summer, I just didn't know where.

Syracuse or Suffern? Not the juiciest options, I'll grant you.

So I packed a duffel bag, grabbed my last $100 and bought a one way ticket to Los Angeles. Hell, they had restaurants out there, I could sling hash in the warm California sun.

And so I got myself a room as a boarder at one of the local fraternity houses on the campus of UCLA.

It was cheap. It was clean, er somewhat clean, and it was blocks away from Westwood which was teeming with blond waitresses hoping to be models/actors. There was nightlife. There was hustle. There was bustle. Did I mention the blond waitresses?

A week later, my buddies Jim and Bob, who also had no particular plans for the summer moved into the frat room.

Within days, we each secured jobs, a reliable weed connection and the largest room in the frat house overlooking Gayley Ave. We were living like kings. As much as three dumb 21 year old kids can live like kings. We still had to share the broken toilet down the hallway with everyone in the house. But in our minds, we were masters of our own domain.

And then they moved in.

A white trash couple from the Florida Panhandle, a phrase dripping with redundancy. They drove up in a VW van that had seen better days. The frat house manager assigned them to our room, which was designated to sleep five. We assigned them to the top bunk of a rickety ass bed that wouldn't survive a 4.3 earthquake.

We took an immediate disliking to Corey and Lori from Florida. Mostly because they were into Cosplay before Cosplay was even a thing.

Every Saturday night they would dress up like two of the characters from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Jim once made the mistake of asking them about the film. Their explanation included singing and dancing.

Which only made us dislike them more.

And every Saturday night they would return from the Rocky Horror Picture midnight showing at 3 or 4 in the morning. You might think that modesty would have prevented them from engaging in any amorous activities with three obnoxious guys from Northern New Jersey in the room.

But folks who put on stage makeup and cross-dress are not big on modesty.

So while they did the Tallahassee Tassle, we did what only seemed natural, we'd turn on the lights, throw on some shorts and fire up the bong. I'm sure we razzed Corey about his less-than-stellar lovemaking.

Those were heady times. And I don't think I've ever laughed harder than my first summer in LA. Maybe that's why I came back after graduating college.

My daughters are approaching that liberating age. I hope they have at least half as much fun as I did. I want them them to do odd things, explore unusual places, and get outside of their comfort zone.

Just not with a guy from Tallahassee who dresses like Riff Raff.

No comments: