Spike and Mike Part 2: San Jose

Doug and I drove to San Jose, my third town on tour with Spike and Mike's Festival of Animation. We would be working with a guy named Twister and a guy named Greg. They were skaters and I was sure San Jose would be great fun.
We found our motel and unfortunately we hadn't read wrong it was indeed a motel. I surely wasn't expecting a house boat like we'd had in S.F. but a corporate apartment like we had in Sacramento would have been nice. Word came back to us that the balcony at the Sacramento apartment was on the verge of falling off of the building when we were done with it and had to be replaced. This may have had a bit too do with the unimpressive digs.
The motel would turn out to be a good representation of things to come in San Jose. Twister did not live up to his exciting name and Greg unfortunately didn't even manage to live up to his lackluster name. Doug fell in with these guys, perhaps exhausted from the adventures of the previous few months. They wanted to drink a few beers and watch T.V. every night. Not even movies, but T.V.; sitcoms, news, commercials and bull shit.
I tried to stir them to inspire them to go out and explore the town but to no avail. Doug pulled out his tarot cards and I was finally bored enough to let him do a reading for me. I was the skeptical atheist as always, but I was amazed by the cards. They struck me as a valuable psychological tool, making the person being read analyze their life categorically. I really enjoyed the reading. When it was done Doug went through the door seperating our motel room from Twister and Greg's. I went to bed.
Night after night of this was more than I could bear.
I headed out alone to find some fun and ended up at a punk show where I sat around waiting for someone to be my friend. Nobody decided to be my friend. After I ordered my forth beer the bartender jokingly offered me every sixth beer free. I left with two free beers in my belly. I was older than most the kids at the show and the bartender hadn't carded me.
I was looking for more booze though, and I didn't have my ID with me. Just a few months past twenty one, I knew I'd need it but I knew I didn't want to go back to that motel, EVER.

Before my 21st birthday I used to buy alcohol in stores by limping and twitching and grumbling to myslef. The clerk would want me out of the store in a hurry so they'd skip the ID stage of the transaction. I decided to try a simillar approach at the bars. I came to the first one, kicked open the door, and loudly announced to the crowd inside, "It's my twenty second fuckin' birthday, who's buying me a god damn drink!" The crowd of old men looked at me blankly and then went back to their drinks. I sat at the bar and the bartender hit me for my ID.
"I get a free drink on my birthday right?" I asked, trying to change the subject. She asked for the ID again. "Yeah, I can't find it. Can you imagine that. My own birthday, the one day that damn ID is worth something, and I can't find it. That's cool though. I'll pay for my drink. Gimme a beer."
She gave me an invitiation to leave her bar. I found another bar, kicked the door and made my announcement again. The crowd was a bit younger and amidst the blank stares were a couple of giggles. I took a seat at the bar and I waited for the bartender to notice me. A heavy set latina girl took the barstool next to mine and put a cardboard coin in front of me.
"What's this?" I asked. She explained that it's good for a drink. The bartender, a grumpy old lady with spongy nicotine skin asked me what I wanted. "I want whatever I can get for this piece of cardboard." She told me it was good for a beer. "Give me a beer." Now she wanted to know which beer? "C'mon lady. This can be easy for both of us. Just pick me a good one." She set a beer in front of me and I started to drinking it. Her tip would have to come out of the carboard cuz the one dollar left in my pocket was buying me dinner, two packs of peanuts.
My latina sponsor sat next to me and we didn't speak a word as I drank my beer. I took my last swallow and she invited me to go to her brothers' girlfriends house where they were gonna do some more drinking. I looked at her, not finding her attractive in any way. It wasn't that she was physically unattractive, just blank, completely and totally devoid of any sign of personality. "Look lady, I just wanted a birthday beer. I aint lookin' to get married." She stared at me uncomprehending. I felt like an asshole. "Sorry."
She left. The bartender came back by. "Hey, do I get a free drink on my birthday." She pointed out that I've had my free drink. "That wasn't free, I gave you that cardboard. That girl must have done something to earn that carboard."
The bartender leaned foward and told me that she thinks I'm an asshole. Oh well, that made two of us. She suggested I buy a drink or get out. "Does anybody want to buy me a drink?" I asked the room. Apparently nobody did. I headed out.
As I turned to leave I noticed an open door to the back room of the bar. The back room was full of large bottles. I stood there considering grabbing one when the walking cigarette filter of a bartender appeared. She showed me some amazingly crooked teeth and offered to show me her fire arm next. This night sucked. I had not had any adventures. The beautiful kids at the punk show did not talk to me. I did not end up somewhere amazing in the company of new and interesting people. I had nowhere to go but back to the couch potato motel. I walked back to the motel, stopping at every pay phone along the way to make collect calls to my highschool girlfriend, Nicole's house. I hadn't kept in touch with her but her phone number had stayed in my memory. It's still there now. Her father answered and would not accept the charges from Holden Caulfield, Charles Bukowski or Rocky the Flying Squirrel. Finally Nicole answered and accepts the charges from Jam Master Jay. She let me know that I'd gotten her dad real pissed off, and her worried. I was just glad to be in touch with someone from my past. Someone who always held me in high regard.
"Life is shit Nicole. I fucked up. I should have finished school, and stayed at home, and went to more school like you're doing. You got it right Nicole. The adventures are boring. Being shit in San Jose isn't any better than being shit in Sacramento." Nicole told me to go to sleep and that it would be better in the morning. As Nicole hungs up it occured to me that I was being drunk and dramatic. I didn't feel depressed. I didn't feel inspired. I felt frustrated at not feeling anything. I wanted some drama. I wanted to be Charles Bukowski, but I had failed to create anything that wasn't superficial, a geeky kid wishing he was something more than clinically bored. I got to the motel and passed out. Nicole was right; in the morning I did feel better.
When Christine visited in S.F. she kept telling me to call my mom. I don't know why I didn't. I guess I needed to be further removed from the drugs and alcohol before I was ready to talk to my mom. I called her from San Jose and she wanted to come visit me. I told her I had the next day off of work and it was agreed, she'd come to San Jose with my kid brother James and we'd go out to lunch.
My mom showed up at 10am, and James, along with his friend Roger and Roger's mom, waited in the car while my mom asked if she could come in an talk to me. It seems her and my dad were getting a divorce. I was the last to know. She hadn't been able to get a hold of me and she didn't want to tell me over the phone. I guess they were all worried about how I'd take it. I was the emotional one in my family. I took it well. I had seen my parents at the worst. I loved them both, but the just didn't get along. It didn't make for an unhappy childhood or anything, at least not for me, as the relationship seemed to really degrade after I left the house.
I didn't realize at the time the amount of damage this was doing to my mom. I must have really been in my own head not to. She had spent almost her entire adult life being mom and wife and now the job was gone, disintergrated, right as she was reaching what was supposed to be the salad days.
I bonded with James on that day. I bonded with him in a very real way that has lasted to this day. I always loved my brother but we never got along. Now we told each other our secrets, I told him how much I loved him I realized how much he looked up to me. I saw how much he was trying to take care of our mom. My family went home and Doug and I were sent to LA where we'd be working with Homes again. Thank god.

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