Nick's House Party

It was the summer of 69 the first time I saw her.

She was wearing a polka dotted dress and looked like a girl from the 50's on her birthday – her sweet sixteen to be exact. (Although she looked like she was 16, I later found out that she was 19 years old and considered a legal adult.) I kept looking for the poodle on the hem of her skirt and the rest of the Happy Day's gang. Where were the greasers, the "outsiders" with their "blackjack and jacket and hair slicked sweet, silver star studs on [their] duds like a Harley in heat"? It very well may have been the summer of 72 or the summer of 85, but for some reason it was during the same time period that Bryan Adams got his first real six string – during the summer of 69.

(You see, this is a timeless tale that takes place during a young adolescent boy's life. At this specific time in this young boy's life time and place are almost insignificant. This story takes place during the pinnacle of this teenage boy's development, the same way that the summer of 69 or "the summer of love" for many Americans was the pinnacle of the 20th Century.

[Author's note: The "summer of love" was actually 1967, but saying "69" just sounds so much better. 1967 was the year of the Monterey Pop Festival in San Francisco; it was also the year the Beatles released Sgt. Pepper. Woodstock took place in New York on Max Yasgur's dairy farm near the Catskills in 1969.]

Not that I'm a historian or anything like that. I know that the 60's were a turbulent time period, full of "flower power" "free love" and "make love not war." There was the war in Vietnam, the Civil Rights movement, the woman's lib movement, hippies, protestors, rock bands, and free concerts. People were "turning on, tuning in, and dropping out." There were the Black Panthers, the Hells Angels; there was Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X. There was Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, Ken Kesey, and Allen Ginsberg. There were the Beatles and Yellow Submarine, there was Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock and there were the Rolling Stones at Altamont. There were people who were living communally in California, and there were major generational differences between the hippies and their parents. There was a culture and a counterculture and there was counterculture that sprung from the counterculture.

But the point is that this story takes place during a time in this boy's life where the day of the week didn't even seem to register. This boy didn't have any conception of what day of the week it was or what year it was, or even where he was or what state he was in. He was aware that he was an American, and that he was going through some changes and that he was "finding" himself, but he really didn't go over to a friend's house to play ping-pong and think "I'm doing this on a Wednesday," or sit in front of the TV to watch football and think "Today is a Sunday and tomorrow it'll be back to school, back to work, back to the ole grind." Part of the reason for this was that it was summertime. One day seemed to blend into the next. But even the awareness of what season it was was not something that weighed heavy on this boy's mind. He did not go outside to play basketball and think, "I'm doing this during the summer...Which also explains why it's so hot out here." No. Everything he did at this time during this boy's life took place in isolation, almost in a vacuum. Therefore this is a timeless tale.

To say that this story took place on a Sunday or a Monday or during the Winter or during the summer would be placing limitations on something that [although it spanned the time period of an entire summer] occurred essentially during one day in history, one day in time, a day that was not distinct or different from any other day, unless it was so for the fact that it was just like any other day, it was just like the day that came before it and the day that came before that, a day in the life of a young teenage boy, and though it happened to take place during the summer if you were to ask him later if the events that occurred during this time period were shaped by the fact that it was warm outside and that he didn't have to go to school, he probably would have told you that the events that occurred during this time period could have taken place anywhere, at anytime, during the winter, the spring, the summer, or fall, and that these type of external influences were of secondary importance.

This was exacerbated by the fact that this boy had no real conception of money or of earning a living. He had no car payments to worry about, no mortgage to contribute to; he didn't even have a bank account or any idea what his social security number was. He didn't have a job and had no real responsibilities. He had no one that depended on him and no one to really answer to or depend on either. Whatever he needed seemed to magically present itself as if out of thin air. If he was hungry he suddenly found that he was holding a sandwich in his hand. If he was thirsty he found somewhere near him a glass of milk that had no one else's name on it, so even if it did belong to someone else he inauspiciously mistook it for his own. He didn't stop to question how these items got there, he just accepted the fact that he seemed to be provided for, taken care of, accommodated with anything that his little heart desired. Sounds pretty nice, right?

Well looking back it was a pretty sweet deal, but at this time in this boy's life he had nothing to compare it to, so he pretty much just took these things for granted. Not that he was spoiled or anything like that. He just didn't have to struggle or work very hard to earn his keep or keep himself fed. When it was time to get dressed in the morning he just went to his closet and pulled out something to wear, very rarely wearing the same outfit twice, and when he got up the next morning the clothes he had worn the day before had been magically returned to their original position and condition, clean and pressed and folded neatly or hung up in his closet.

If he needed a ride somewhere, there was someone waiting to take him. If a friend invited him to go see a movie or take a dip in the pool he just went and enjoyed himself and had a good time. He only seemed limited by the amount of things there were to do, recreational activates that were available to be taken advantage of. There never seemed to be a transaction of currency between him and his folks or him and the cashier at the grocery store. I suppose someone else or some magical force was always footing the bill, that or the institutions that typically charged other people for their services decided to accommodate this gentleman pro bono or gratis, whatever the case may be.

The boy also had the luxury of not having to worry about worldly events or international affairs – wars being fought, politicians running for office, global warming, homelessness in Ethiopia, and other current events, because he never read the newspaper, never watched the news on TV, and he generally shied away from sports, government, politics, and technology. He did like to read novels, mainly science fiction and comic books, and he did like to watch movies and listen to music, but he never really read many magazines and certainly not the tabloids because he didn't care for gossip or celebrity worshipping. To say that Jimmy lived a comfortable lifestyle would be an understatement. For example, even something as mundane and simple as climate control was never an issue for Jimmy. He almost never got sick, and his internal body temperature stayed at an even 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit, and whenever he was indoors he was never too hot or too cold because everything was always kept at a comfortable room temperature.

So even though this story takes place during the summer of 69, it really takes place when Jimmy was 18, during the "summer of 69" of his entire life, at an unknown period in time [alright let's say 2003] when the year, setting, and physical location [New Jersey] were of no real importance. Isn't it enough to just tell the story and say what happened without having to give a time and a place? Jeez!)

She was sitting on a wooden bench, not a park bench type bench, but a long, flat chest type bench that looked like if you were to stand up and remove the seat cushions and lift the lid you would be able to store things inside there, like little knick knacks, paddie whacks and give the dog a bone type stuff. Or possibly more seat cushions. Although she looked familiar I was quite sure we had never been formally introduced. The bench she was sitting on was long – I mean real long – it looked as if 25 people could have sat right next to each other side by side on that bench, without cramping each others' styles. But at the time there were only two other girls who were sitting on that side of the bench, one on her left and one on her right, both of them sat not directly next to her but at a comfortable arms length distance away.

I wasn't sure of the reason for this. It didn't seem to be a big deal or even worth mentioning, but I wondered if she smelled like garlic or had bad BO. I had carefully applied three layers of deodorant to my underarms and sprayed myself twice on the neck with Calvin Klein cologne. I had also brushed my teeth twice, flossed, rinsed with mouthwash, and chewed four pieces of gum to ensure that my breath wouldn't be offensive to anyone, especially not a pretty young lady like the one I was eyeballing now. I had stopped carrying tic-tacs and switched to gum because I didn't like the amount of noise they made inside your pocket whenever you moved your leg. I had been unfortunate enough to inherit bad breath genes from my parents, and if I so much as went near a chopped up onion or a piece of garlic I would be toast. Literally. Just in case I had any chance of smooching with someone later on, I would be prepared. I looked over longingly at a snack table with various chips and cheese doodles, dips and Doritos, guacamole and salsa.

I didn't recognize either of the girls she was talking to, so I figured they must be sophomores in college. My friend Nick was dating a girl one or two years older than us – we were both going to be freshman or "frosh" as they are sometimes called – and he decided to invite her and a bunch of her friends to a house party in his basement while his folks were out of town. It wasn't a bad idea. Between the girls in our grade and the girls who were already in college there wasn't a girl in sight who looked like she didn't put out. There were also a few younger high school guys there, sophomores and juniors, but I figured they didn't really pose as much of a threat to us recently graduated seniors. I figured some of the college girls would take a look at the big breasted girls in our grade and get jealous of their good looks and try to snag a young 18 year old stud like myself, and the whole party atmosphere would provide a nice backdrop for long-lasting friendships to grow and develop. That or a one night stand.

I stood over by the pool table and tried to look cool and act nonchalant. I looked up from our game for a split second and heard the girls giggling spontaneously from across the room. I thought I saw the girl in the middle lock eyes with mine but I couldn't be sure. She might have only been looking in my direction. I tried to play it cool. I bounced the pool cue on the floor a couple of times in synch with the music before trying my best to concentrate on my upcoming shot. I felt her eyes on me as I carefully lined up the cue ball to knock the 7 ball in the left corner pocket. I chalked up the pool cue and slid it back and forth between my fingers a few times before striking the cue ball. The shot missed, but I sensed that she was no longer watching, and even if she was I guessed that she really didn't care. I walked to the other side of the table to turn my back on her and took a sip from my red beer cup. I knew I shouldn't let a girl I've never met before distract me from my billiards game, especially since I had 5 bucks riding on it, but in all honesty I was more interested in her than I was the billiards.

"It shouldn't be too hard for a guy like me to get laid tonight," I thought to myself. I was single, available, tall and handsome, and popular in school, both because I played sports and because I had a good sense of humor. I had just graduated high school and already been accepted to TCNJ so I had no parents to answer to, and no curfew to be home by, which meant I would be able to get a little bit wasted, so long as I didn't pass out or throw up, and everyone in our group of friends by this time was starting to realize that sex was a little bit better when you were a little bit drunk. The girls especially seemed to get horny when they got a little bit tipsy, and they easily forgot themselves and became flirtatious and touchy-feely. Even the girls who were usually shy when they were sober were looking to hook-up. Although some of them might have been looking for a boyfriend, it seemed as if most of them were just looking to fool around a little bit, maybe go all the way, with no real commitment or plans for the future and no strings attached. After all, it was going to be our last summer together, and now was the time to experiment and make some mistakes before going to college and deciding to settle down and raise a family.

I was letting the game slip away from me. A quick glance on the table and I noticed there were far more solids than there were stripes, a few more shots sunken by my opponent and I would be toast. Just then the song that had been playing ended and there was that moment of silence before the next song was about to start up. It was my turn to take a shot. If I didn't get the rest of the balls in and then sink the 8 ball this game would be over. But I couldn't really concentrate because I was already trying to think of what I would say to that girl if I walked up to her. I didn't even know her name.

Somehow I managed to get the yellow ball in the left side pocket. There were still 3 more of my balls on the table and my opponent only had to get in one more plus the 8 ball. I could either just hit the cue ball as hard as I could and hope for the best, or I could try to make a comeback and call some attention to myself by doing some kind of a trick shot. I took another sip out of my red cup and looked back in the girl's direction but she wasn't there. The other two girls she had been talking to were laughing about something and one of the girls was holding her hands about 12 inches apart which I guess was a rough estimate of the size of some guy's penis. He must have been a black guy to have a shlong that size.

"To hell with the trick shot," I thought. "I better go look for that girl before she starts hooking up with the guy with the 12 inch cock!"

I hit the ball as hard as I could and hoped that something other than the 8 ball would go in, but I ended up knocking in my opponent's last ball and setting him up perfectly for the 8 ball.

"Damn!" I said out loud, pretending to be upset.

"You would have had a chance of knocking in that 3 ball, but you would have had to use the bridge or go behind your back. Now look at what you've set up for me."

He tapped the cue ball gently and the game was finished.

"Nick! Hell of a game, my man. You beat me fare and square. Good thing I didn't agree to play you for 20. Here's the 5 bucks I owe you." I slapped a 5 dollar bill in his hand. "You got me this time, but you better practice up while I'm gone cus I'm gonna go find me a nice little honey and when my fun with her is done I'm gonna come back here and collect double or nothing winnings on your ass. And you best hope I don't have to break out the bridge."

"OK we'll see about that mandingo. Go get some tail while the gettins good. They're playing your song."

"You're right about that."

The song that was playing was "Born to Run." Nick knew that I was a big Bruce Springsteen fan and that I had most of his albums and not just his Greatest Hits. I walked up a flight of stairs to the first floor and headed towards the bathroom. Before I got there I practically bumped right into the girl I was looking for. She was holding a red cup and some beer spilled onto the floor.

"I'm sorry about that...I'll help you clean it up. It was my fault. Nick's parents would kill him if they knew he was having a party." I grabbed a nearby roll of paper towels and sopped up the spilled beverage. "I was just on my way to the bathroom."

"That's so nice of you! Thanks. I had to come up here to call my mother. She always gets so worried about me."

"I know what you mean, my mom's the same way."

"Are you one of Nick's best friends or something?"

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't say I'm his best friend, but I've had dinner with his family. I think they think of me as a respectable citizen, despite my questionable reputation."

"I saw you playing pool with him."

"Yeah, he kicked my butt. To tell you the truth I got kind of distracted when I noticed you from across the room. I kept trying to think of where I've seen you before."

"I think I might have seen you at a basketball game."

"That's right! I couldn't remember what it was but that was it! I'm sorry, I can't believe I don't know your name."

"Jenny," she stuck out her hand. "You're Jimmy, right?"

"Yeah!" I said. "Hey, Jimmy and Jenny, how about that?"

"The two J's."

"Kind of like Benny and Joon, only their initials would be B&J and our initials are J&J."

"Like Johnson and Johnson!"

"Yeah! Hey, let me ask you something...Do you hear the song that they're playing downstairs?"

"Yeah..."

"Do you know who it's by?"

"Is this a trick question?"

"No."

"Do you know who it's by?"

"Yeah. But I'm asking if you know who it's by."

"That's a no brainer," she said. "It's Billy Joel."

"Eeennn!" (makes the sound of a buzzer.)

(She laughs.) "I'm just kidding! I know its Bruce Springsteen."

"Ding! Ding! Ding! What have we got for her Johnny!?"

"I love Bruce Springsteen. Dancin in the Dark is like one of my favorite songs by him. (begings singing) ... 'This gun's for hire (Jimmy joining in) ...even if we're just dancing in the dark. Hey Baby!' Oh my god, Courtney Cox was like the coolest girl ever when he pulled her up on stage for that video. And Born to Run... That's like the unofficial New Jersey anthem or something. Seseme Street even did a parody of it."

"Hey that's pretty good. Here I was thinking I'm the only one at this party who's a fan of the Boss. I guess I have my parents to thank for that. They took me to see him in concert and they always play this album on Labor Day. They make such a big deal out of the fact that he's from Freehold. My dad even points out a gas station in Hazlet near my grandparents' house and says that it's the same sign that he wrote about in Jungle Land."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's all faded now but I guess it had a picture of a dinosaur on it at some point."

"You're talking about the line that goes, 'we'll meet neath that giant Exxon sign that brings this fair city light?'"

"Yeah! Wow, you really know your stuff! I'm impressed."

"I guess I learned most of it from my Dad too. He listens to all the classic rock. Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin. Dire Straits. Cream. Santana. Squeeze. He plays the guitar."

"That's so cool! What about you? Do you play any musical instruments?"

"Yeah I play the drums."

"No way! I don't know why but for some reason I just got a feeling that you might be a musician. I play a little music myself so maybe that's why I'm able to sniff them out."

"What do you play?"

"Guitar mostly. On occasion I'll attempt to belt out a tune."

"Maybe we should jam sometime. Do you know anyone that can play the bass? Or the keyboard?"

"Well I'm sort of in between bass players right now. I had a guy who I thought was pretty good for a while and we sort of tried to start a band but he ended up being a heroin addict and it all went downhill from there. But Nick plays piano so I'm sure he could provide us with some accompaniment if need be."