Dead-Heading

I didn’t have much of a chance of getting into the concert, but I agreed to give my friends a ride to Philadelphia any way.

It was a chance at a road trip, some free beer and pot, and there was the potential for fun!

It was the summer of 1985(?), and it was a slow weekend, no work, and I had no summer classes at college. I don’t really remember what led up to it, but a few of my friends talked me into driving down to Philly from Upsala College, in East Orange, to see The Dead at the Spectrum.

I did not have a ticket, but they said we might be able to scalp one…so we piled into my blue, 1980 Subaru hatchback, and we headed for the New Jersey Turnpike! The trip down was not very memorable, although I do remember being in a ‘race’ with a guy in a Chevy Citation X-11 during the drive. He kept trying to catch up to us and pass us, but could not, for try as he might, he was always just a little bit behind, his X-11 being no match for the Japanese might that is Subaru!

Looking back now, I count myself lucky that I did not get the attention of the NJ State Police, because I was moving pretty fast, and we were drinking and partaking of illegal substances during the trip!

Eventually, we got to the exit to Philadelphia, waved good bye to the X-11, and made our way across the bridge and into the city, and drove to the old Spectrum.

When we parked, my friends once again assured me that I would have no problem getting a ticket, “There are always people selling tickets in the parking lot.” However, after wandering the lot for more than half an hour, all we found were badly counterfeited tickets, and I figured out pretty quick that I would not be getting in to see the Grateful Dead that night. I was disappointed, but not that much, I kind of expected to be shut out.

However, my friends took pity on me, after all I did drive them all the way down there, knowing that I might not get to see the concert…and they were counting on me to drive them home!

So they gave me some beers and a few other ‘supplies’ and we agreed to meet at the car after the show, and I bid them well.

As the crowds filed into the auditorium I was wondering what I would do for the next three hours or so, and began to wander around the lot.

I soon found that there were almost as many people outside as in the concert! Most were hanging out in lawn chairs and partying in the lot. Others were wandering, like I was, some selling all kinds of items, from t-shirts to drugs, or just meeting up with friends they knew from other concerts. Most of the people I met were really friendly and would invite me to come over and hang out for a while.

I shared what I had, and they shared what they had and we would talk about the band, and listen to the music filtering out from inside of the Spectrum, so it was really chill.

During the course of the evening, I found myself on a bus with a cute girl, who had stayed behind to watch the vehicle and all her friends’ stuff. She told me that someone volunteered to stay behind  and watch the bus at every concert.

We smoked and had some beers, and shared a few other substances and got just a little ‘friendly’ but nothing outrageous. It was fun and she wound up giving me a tie-dyed t-shirt that was way too small, but I did not care. By the time we parted, it was getting late and I figured that the concert would be ending soon, so I stopped with the substances and the beer, and decided to walk around and try to sober up before the drive back home.

As I made a circuit of the parking lot I came across and incident that is still very clear in my memory!

I saw a crowd of people just standing around and wanted to see what was going on. Somehow, I made my way to the front of the crowd, where I saw a circle of mounted Police, surrounded a guy who had stripped down to his drawers, he was obviously messed up as he was standing there barefoot, screaming and throwing bottles on the ground! When he ran of them, he would pick up the broken pieces and slam them back on the ground and scream!

He was not throwing them at the cops, nor was he screaming at them, and they were just watching him, perhaps hoping he would wear himself out. To be honest, I don’t think the guy knew the cops were there…not yet any way. While I was watching, another guy ran up to him, I assumed he was a friend, and he was trying to talk him down, afraid he’d get hurt and arrested, and then hurt some more.

After a few minutes they both sat down on the ground and the cops moved in, put him in handcuffs and put him in an ambulance that had just arrived!

With the excitement over, I made my way back to the car, to find my friends waiting there for me. They apologized again because I had to stay in the parking lot, and asked if I had a good time and just said “It was interesting.” And I proceeded to tell them what I could.

We hung out long enough for the lot to begin to empty and they gave me the supplies I needed to make sure I would be able to stay awake for the ride home.

There was no X-11 on the trip back to East Orange, but we had fun, as they told me how great the concert was, and I regaled them with tales of the parking lot.

I have seen several concerts in my life, some were big names in big venues, others were smaller shows, watched from lawns at Snug Harbor or Green Lane Park, I even made it to the Spectrum once more before it was closed down, when I took my daughter to see N’Sync when she was nine. However, I never did get to see The Dead in concert, but the evening in the parking lot was the most memorable concert I never got to go to!

 

 

 

 

Moving Out

 

January 25, 1997 was a rainy Saturday.

I had already made the arrangements. I had signed the lease and got an approval to move in a week early (and pay an extra week of rent); I had talked to a lawyer about what steps I needed to take, and about what I had to do in order to keep my daughter with me, and then had the difficult conversation with my wife…she did not put up much of an argument, I think she knew it was for the best.

It was a difficult decision, but things had run their course, and now we were doing nothing but running into brick walls.

She even helped me to pack and pick out new stuff for the apartment, dishes, pots, pans, cleaning supplies, even sheets and towels, all that I would need to start a new life. I was grateful that she did not make it more difficult, but also a little disappointed that she did not try harder to keep me…keep us, at home.

But then, we had been trying for so long…and we both knew we were done, there was no moving forward together.

I got the keys the night before the big move, and took over a few boxes, the TV, VCR and some pillows and blankets. Then, I picked up my daughter, got some McDonald’s and we spent the first night watching movies and sleeping on the floor of the new place. This way, I could truthfully say that when I moved, I took my daughter with me.

The actual move went well. I brought my daughter back to her mother, and had two friends to help out, and there was not a lot of stuff…the biggest thing being an old bookcase. It was a challenge getting that up the narrow staircase to the second floor, and it did get scuffed, we made it. Most of the rest of the items were just ‘smalls’. Still, it took a few hours, and I was grateful…the best part of the move was taking my friends out to lunch at Pizza Como when it was all over.

That evening, I went home to the apartment alone, my daughter stayed with her mother. I remember how good it felt to be all moved in, and to away from the stress that my marriage and home had become. I sat in my big easy chair, left the TV off and just listened to the sounds from the other apartments in the house. Downstairs, I could hear kids laughing, from upstairs, I could hear music, and from the other side of the wall, the sound of a TV. These were the sounds of people living their lives, and I was grateful for them…and for the peace.

The next day, I went to buy a new bed for my daughter (and had to retrieve the mattress from 422 when it blew off of the Subaru…it was covered in plastic), went home, set it up, continued to unpack and that evening, I picked up my daughter, and we were finally home!

After a dinner of chicken strips and potatoes (the first of many), another movie, and a story, I put her bed. As I was exhausted in every way, I went soon after. Our rooms were connected, so when I got into bed, I must have woken her up, and when I turned out the light, she asked if she could come in and sleep with me (she was two). I assured her that I was only a few feet away, and explained that I spent $200 for the bed, and that was why I wanted her to sleep in it. She seemed fine with that, we said “Good Night” and both tried to sleep…in the midst of so much change.

We lived in that apartment for more than six years. These were not all easy times, especially in the beginning, when we were adjusting to so much, but I did the best I could at the time. I had a lot to learn about being a parent…and some of those lessons were learned by making mistakes.

However, along with the difficult days, there were many good times. We had access to a huge yard, and spent hours and hours playing there, from make-believe with her toy animals, to soccer practice. We turned the small living-room into a fort for a few weeks, and her room became a playroom where Barbies cavorted with lions, tigers, bears and dogs!

And we had a play-kitchen where we dined on plastic peas and rubber cockroaches.

It was a place where I relearned the joy of playing, and where we both grew up. When we left to move into our own, much bigger, house, there was some sadness for me, but it was time to move on…just like it was time for that marriage to end.

Since then, life has continued to move forward, and has had some serious lows, but also some amazing highs (no pun intended); and a whole lot of the day to day ordinary.

While I like my house, I will always have a soft-spot for our old apartment, which got us started off on our new life. I have become grateful for that ordinary, that my daughter and I are still a family, that I have found a relationship that works, and that I have even made amends with my ex-wife…because all that resentment proved to be too heavy to carry around, and certainly too heavy to keep moving with me.