DISCLAIMER: Upon reading this series of blogs, some of you may wonder, “Why did he think anyone would be interested in reading this stuff?” Well, to be honest, I DIDN’T think about that. I wasn’t worried about the entertainment value. These blogs relate to a major chapter of my life finally coming to an end, and I felt like writing about it here. Yes, I could have written it in a journal at home instead of broadcasting it on the net. In fact I tried, but for some reason it didn’t give me the same sense of catharsis that blogging about it does. So here, for better or worse, is the latest blog.
J moved away to Denver in 1998. About a year later he convinced me to go out there and give living there a try. I went out there in June 1999, and the bullshit started up again almost immediately. J had a job that was only two blocks away from his apartment. I had one where I had to take THREE buses to get to it. He could have walked to his job whereas I could have benefited from a car (which, of course, he had), but guess what happened? He drove…I TOOK THREE BUSES!!! Now I know some people would say, “How can you just expect him to let you borrow his car every day?” I didn’t, but it relates to a point later on.
After only a month in Denver, I was sick of it. J and I had plans to come back to New York in July anyway for Woodstock 99, so I headed home sooner than originally planned. We spent the night before Woodstock 99 at the dorm room of another old friend, the one we called Aunt Lindsay. (There is a long story behind that nickname, which could be its OWN series of blogs.) It had to be hands down one of the worst weekends of my life. In fact it was so bad on so many levels that I don’t even care to get into it here. When it was over, J went back to Denver and I stayed in New York.
Don’t ask me why, but about a year later I decided to maybe give living in Denver another try. I moved out there to J’s apartment with plans to get my own job and place as fast as possible because I didn’t want to be a mooch forever. He was good enough to let me stay there for free…I wasn’t going to take advantage.
Staying there was a nightmare. I would say to him, “Hey, man, I want to walk around and look for jobs today. Could you PLEASE give me the key to the apartment and the building? I’ll make sure I am back before you are home so you don’t get locked out of your own place.” J’s awesome response? “No, you can leave by the fire escape.” Just for the cool hell of it, I went out and checked this thing out. Most fire escapes are designed so that the ladder will drop down at the bottom so that you have only about a 5 foot drop to the ground. In THIS case (and I am not making this up), the ladder didn’t do that…it ended about FIFTEEN FEET ABOVE THE GROUND! So I said, “Hell with that.” When I went for my job interview, I made sure no one was in the hall to see that I left the door unlocked. If J got ripped off, it was his own fault for not leaving me the key.
There were various other forms of misery. I remember there was some argument he got into with a young lady he brought over, which of course got blamed on me (even though he had similar arguments with other women long after I was gone). Before I had a job he would constantly make the comment, “I have to go to bed because I got to work early in the morning. Someone has to be the MAN around here.” Luckily I didn’t have to put up with it for long: I moved out to Denver sometime after 4th of July…I had my own apartment by August.
More in part 3…