Boy Meets Girl

Author's Note:

This story was originally posted on February 3, 2023. It contained some inaccuracies related to the date of the event. It was embarrassing because I used a Wikipedia source that used the wrong date. While I was at it, I corrected more than a few other errors within the story.

Last night (February 11, 2023), the CBS program 48 hours did a story on the fire. It was a rerun and probably appeared for the first time in 2018. I don't recall having seen the story when it originally aired but it accomplished some of the same things I wanted to bring to life.

From the Original Story

I want to state that this story really made me pause and think about how any relatives, friends, co-workers, or simply residents of the communities heavily impacted by horrible event might feel in reading this story. While I finished the story 3 months ago, I opted to submit it timed to be close to the anniversary date.

This story is fiction and not based on any known persons or subsequent events. The event - the Station Nightclub Fire - itself is not. Thousands of peoples' lives were changed or destroyed by the fire and only their personal strength allowed them to proceed in life. As I worked on the story, I stopped multiple times to just think about those in attendance who planned a wonderful night out but finding a series of bad decisions left many from this wonderful metropolis in mourning.

The event I am writing about is the Station Club fire on February 20, 2003, in West Warwick, Rhode Island. It caused the death of one hundred people and more than two hundred very serious injuries. Many suffered terrible burns too horrible to describe in this story. Sadly, it was an avoidable disaster had the club owner, club manager, band manager, and stagehands communicated the planned use of pyrotechnics. To this day, the owner and manager insist that they did not know about the planned use of pyrotechnics and would have refused if asked.

How could you deal with the loss of a loved one, or how could you help your partner if they were severely injured and disabled, or you survived and either disfigured or disabled. This story is fiction involving a modest, somewhat introverted man who arrived at the Station Club two hours early and met a young woman - full of life and love - the girl of his dreams before the fire started. Please be patient - it is going to take 20 years for the story to come to a climax.

February 20, 2023 - West Warwick, Rhode Island

I should not have come back to this place. If the weight of my life isn't shitty enough, I gathered all my strength, both physical and emotional, and decided to attend the memorial service for the twentieth anniversary of the Station Club night club fire near my home in Rhode Island. Until that night, I was an average nerd working for a living with two very close friends from college, an occasional girlfriend but never close to a fiancé, and some good co-workers that I hung out with after work. My name is Grant Johnston, and I am 45 years old. I had been married years back to my wife Gloria, but she had passed away seven years ago. We had been married for six years and she, like me, had disabilities from the fire. In her last years she was homebound. That night, she was much closer to the stage than me. Her scarred lungs made every breath miserable until her death. It was hard, but I did love her. In part, because we shared that event. No, I do not recall seeing her there, probably because I was focused on someone with whom I felt an instant connection.

Perhaps a better way to describe my life with Gloria was that we truly cared for each other, knowing that our physical and emotional scars would never heal. I tried to make her comfortable during her final year and mourned when she passed. I did have a two-year relationship with a girlfriend afterwards, but she eventually realized she could not live with my physical deformities. I was sad but understood. I was not alone with my handicaps in our area as you will learn as this story goes on. I will start by telling you a little about me.

January 19, 1978 - February 20, 2003 - West Warwick, Rhode Island

There is not much to say about me from the day of my birth (yep, that's January 19, 1978) to the day of the horror. I was born into a decent middle-class family with a mother and father who did everything they could to ease our burden in life. We were not rich. My father worked for the city keeping track of building permits, work progress, inspections, and working with the planning department on zoning changes. As well developed as the area was, there were few significant zoning changes in and around the city of Providence. My mother was an assistant at the public library - not high on the pay scale but it did contribute to our ability to make ends meet. After all, there are three of us kids. I am the only boy and I have an older sister Maggie and a younger sister name Carol.

We grew up in Barrington, a suburb of Providence, Rhode Island. I was a pretty good student and when it came to college, I wanted to get free of my hometown. My grades were good, and the University of Connecticut accepted me, gave me a half-ride scholarship, and waived any out of state fees.

In Storrs, life for male students was great if you were accepted into a fraternity. To gain admission, it was better to have a family member who was in that fraternity or get multiple recommendations from members of that fraternity. Oh, and it was even better that you had lots of spending cash or if your family has a cabin in Vermont or Maine on a ski-slope so the guys can "crash" there and seduce sorority girls.

My friend from high school got into one of a middle of the pack ones the year before and he partied every night (or so he said). I went through 'rush' and thought I had a decent chance and did receive a bid. With a bid, they presented a sheet reflecting likely first-year costs for participation and I knew from the start that I would have to turn it down. While the school waived out of state tuition based on my grades, I could barely afford my first-year room, board, and tuition. Get rid of my car? What car? I took a bus to Storrs and back home for holidays. Beer money? First, I was only eighteen and a straight arrow. Dating? These girls wanted fancy dinners out, even dinner at a Taco Bell and a movie was out of my price range. Please do not get me wrong, my life in Storrs was not bad, I loved the school and my friends but did not have an active social life other than an occasional 'hang out' with a young woman who was not into the 'Greek' scene.

Now here is where I would like to tell you that I grew up and am now six feet, three inches tall, with an athletic build and when I walk into a bar, all the single women swoon at the thought of taking me home. That is what I would like to say but, instead, I will tell the truth! I was five feet, ten inches tall when this story begins, a slight beer gut and I earned every added pound on my body. I have a face that my mother loves, and a warm personality that does take a few encounters before it reaches the surface and another five or six before you know me well enough to have a solid friendship. I am also the guy that 'runs to the store' to get you a quart of milk or let someone cut in line in front of me if they need to hurry. Once I even told a highway patrol officer that, yes, I was speeding. I thought he would appreciate my honesty and he did give me a "good-citizen-certificate" that cost me $220 for 15 mph over the speed limit.

I returned to my family home after graduation and I had multiple job offers but most of them were on the West Coast and, while the salaries were good, I would probably need two roommates in a one-bedroom apartment to be able to live 'comfortably' (really - with two roommates, I don't think so)! I did get a solid offer from a bank that housed a technology center here in Providence. It was exciting to stay close to my family considering the help they provided financially and emotionally to get me to graduation. Also, being in Providence, it is less than an hour drive to anywhere else in our fair state!

When my life changing event occurred, I had been with my company for two years. My bosses liked me and my work ethic. In fact, I have worked for three bosses who received promotions based on successful project completion that either I led or provided the technology expertise.

My reward came around the end of the year. You know those annual merit increases after the company raises prices by 7% and the major contributors get a 2.5% raise. Of course, everyone gets one although I did rise to slightly above the mid-point for my position. As I edged above the mid-point, I knew there would be fewer increases in my future. You may already know that, in big corporations, the mid-point is the actual high point. They only post the higher number to make you think that, if you stay with the company, you can reach the top of the scale. But, if your salary is well above the midpoint, there is a target on your back when the economy turns sour.

If I remember correctly, I recall four real dates while in college and my friends always said that was why my grade point average was at least one point above the other guys I hung out with during the school year. Why the description of my social woes? To let you know what happened up until that night of the fire.

Are you already tired of me complaining about my life? Maybe you would like you would like to live like me for the past twenty years.

That Night - February 20, 2003 - West Warwick, Rhode Island

I had been a "Great White" fan over the years and my office friends mentioned that they planned to go to the show that night. The bar was famous for being a pick-up place or a just a good place to hang out with your work friends after hours. It was more blue-collar than the bars in Storrs but that was a good thing. It reminded me of my nearby hometown that I seemed to forget about while I was in college. I regret that now.

Rhode Islanders are salt of the earth people, whether blue-collar, white collar, or unemployed. The area includes immigrants, most legal - others, maybe less than legal. I do not think anyone complains about the situation. There are multiple landscaping companies from large commercial to two lawn mowers and a weed eater. Our community is growing older and not everyone wants to take care of their lawns. Restaurants too are places where the illegals can find employment. Rhode Island and Providence proper has excellent restaurants. Everyone thinks of clams and oysters, but few think of the Rhode Island delicacy - Johnnycakes! I include this because it reinforces the love of our community.

Without a date, I only needed one ticket using part of my recent "good job" bonus - a $250 reward for saving the company $1 million on a project. I decided I would spend the whole amount having fun. I had been in that bar twice in the past so I arrived early thinking that there would be seats. That was not the case. In fact, the bar venue was normal and there were lots of young adults just 'hanging out' wearing jeans and t-shirts from concert venues in days gone by. The house band was playing decent mix of popular music for those arriving early.

I looked hopefully around the bar to see if my work friends had arrived. A quick look around the bar said I would not have a wingman tonight. I was more than a bit ticked-off and thought I would confront the 'turncoats' on Monday. It was easy to think about a confrontation knowing it was not in my DNA to make an issue about someone saying 'I might' be there. Yes, none of the guys 'promised' they would meet me that night.

I saw a single seat at the bar and grabbed it as fast as I could. It was easier to be lonely on a seat surrounded by others than standing out like Charley Brown's Christmas tree unclaimed at the tree farm. The band was good, playing the type of music I enjoyed like the bars around Storrs. As the music continued, the crew for Great White finished preparations for the concert.

The acoustics were decent as well. The other two times I was in this bar, I thought the acoustics sucked. I noticed that the bar looked different. The walls and ceiling were covered in foam and figured that the sound improvement is due to the foam in the ceiling and on the walls.

My eyes were still wandering around the venue when I noticed a group of four young women at a table close to the restrooms along with three guys. They seemed comfortable together. They must have been co-workers, but I also figured three couples. Who was the 'odd-girl out'? How would I know, folks? They were giving off a very pleasant 'vibe' - that they were good friends and couples, except for the single - perhaps a date will arrive later.

The band started playing and couples began to dance. I know, I would have preferred something where everyone could hit the dance floor and dance, even if they did not have a partner. Please, no line dancing! I hate line dancing - I lack the coordination to not to look like a klutz! There they came - three girls, three guys so now it was obvious who the couples were. The dancing started so I turned to get the bartender's attention for another beer. When I turned back, the fourth woman was in front of me.

"Come on, get up and dance with me, please!"

I did not stand a chance. Her small hand grabbed mine, pulled me up with more than enough force to get me on my feet and onto the dance floor. I do not know how to describe what just happened! She was all of five feet two inches of petite woman. She weighed about 105 pounds with beautiful brunette hair color and the most obviously Irish face in New England. Freckles everywhere and she had a smile that could not be described. The fact that she just walked up to me and smiled like that warmed my heart.

Great White's set-up was wrapping up as the band kept playing. One song became two, then three, four and I began to learn more about her. I learned that she was originally from Ireland but came to the United States when she was 4 years old, grew up on the southside of Boston, and graduated from Boston College. She teaches kindergarten at a private school in Massachusetts, but I could not hear where because the crowd just erupted. As I looked around, I noticed two of the band members walking through the bar. Must be getting closer to show time.

Of all the guys in this place, she picked me! To be honest, there were so many couples, I figured I was chosen because I was the only single guy in the bar. But, while on the dance floor, I saw a pod of single guys lining the edge of the dance floor and they looked at her and then at me.

Yes, I know guys, I "outkicked my coverage" as they say in football. Why did she pick me? She is beautiful, I am an average guy.

It was almost impossible to hear anyone as the crowd noise and the 'too loud' amplified band music got louder. I love music but the volume had to be 130 decibels or more and a painful experience. I know 'loudness' - both amplitude and 'frequency' as it was my senior project in one of my engineering courses. Some of the music was 'eardrum' piercing.

I introduced myself to her and she replied '??rsha'. That was the best I could decipher through the noise, but we were still on the dance floor and danced again when I heard the announcement, "Last song people!" All our dances were 'fast' up to that point.

We had been on the floor for close to an hour when she leaned in and kissed me! It surprised me, it was sudden, but not rushed! It was not sexual, but very warm, tender and most of all, sincere when she screamed "I like you - you are something special! Let's keep dancing!"

The band did not immediately start playing the 'last song'. The lead singer was getting final instructions from the manager of the club. I did not need another song; I was happy holding this wonderful woman's hand. I am a very guarded person, but any reluctance I might have disappeared as I enjoyed her smile.

The Greeks and Italians have their versions of the "thunderbolt" - that moment when a man or woman realizes they are with their person of destiny. On the dance floor, I was began seeing our wedding day and her smile as we kissed right after she said, "I do"! Now, I could not wait for the music to stop so we can hold hands waiting to profess our vows. "I, Grant, take you ...".

My fantasy disappeared, what is her name! As soon as this dance is over, I am going to get her information - NAME (gosh, that is obvious), address, telephone number, ring size, and ask how many kids we should plan to have!

One more time, the band repeated that the next song would be their last. I was holding her tightly, I hoped I was not crushing her. The band started the next song - both of us heard the opening bar, looked straight at each other said at the same moment "I love this song!" It was their version of Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes". We looked deep in each other's eyes realizing that our connection was quickly growing, and we embraced while dancing to this song.

We were synchronized as a couple but how, if we only met a little more than an hour ago. My eyes filled with happy teardrops that just pooled in my eyes. I looked in her eyes and saw the same puddles forming. She tightened her grip on me, pressed her breasts to me, turned her head, and rested it high on my chest. I wanted that song to go on forever but, as the song neared its end, the stage manager started announcements before the song finished.

A small number of chairs were placed adjacent to the stage to provide limited seating while most would stand during the performance. Only one "set" of songs were planned that night lasting around 45 minutes or so. This crowd would not have an issue with standing. The club manager announced it now was the time to use the restrooms as they will be hard to get to them once the show begins.

She turned to me - kissed me again and said, "hold a spot for me! I need to go now so we do not miss the show". Then she kissed me again and said "I like you! I like you a lot! I love everything about you!" Then, she headed for the growing line at the ladies' room. It only took a minute for the ladies to seize the men's room as well. But she had used the L.O.V.E word. I would have responded with the same word, but she was already off to get in line.

The house band left the stage area, and the final preparations were made to bring Great White to the stage.

The Horror

My future financè, was still back by the women's bathroom when Great White came to the stage. Their stagehand was jumping around moving the canisters that had been pre-positioned on the stage. The music commenced, the crowd roared, and any efforts to communicate ceased. At the time, I had no idea what that dude was touching, moving, shifting, then tilting. Today, reflecting on the event, I cannot recall if it was the first song, the second, or even the third.

I was still looking over the crowd for my friend and saw her trying to move back into the hall. I began trying to move through the crowd to get to her but there were more than 300 people shoulder to shoulder blocking her way. Great White's performance was underway and, as I was pushing through the crowd, the pyrotechnics ignited, and the sparks hit the walls and ceiling over a third of the club. I assumed this was part of the show. It was, but at that moment the sparks ignited the insulating foam on the wall and ceilings around the venue.

Sparks became flames, flames turned the foam into molten lava, and poisonous smoke filled the hall and as the flames got hotter. The river of melted foam turned into a type of lava falling on innocent victims below. The front door quickly became blocked as the audience panicked attempting to exit.