A "Christmas Story," from an Old Man's BrainActually, it was pre-New Year's, maybe Dec. 30, '64; I was in the USAF, in Wichita Falls. A girl I'd met the previous summer, while lifeguarding at La Fonda's little pool, had indicated that, if I showed up in Dallas for New Year's, I'd be welcomed. I did. I wasn't, whence endeth the tale.
It begins a little earlier.
Being a very junior airman (E-2, one stripe), I had very little money, so I decided to hitchhike to Dallas. Outside the gate, I met up with another guy from my flight. As I recall, his name was Danny, and he was from Appalachia somewhere, spoke with an almost incomprehensible drawl and hadn't had "low quarter" shoes before enlisting in the USAF which, all unbeknownst to me, he was in the process of deserting, that cold, December night outside Shepard AFB.
We lucked out and caught a ride pretty quickly, a balding, semi-portly, middle-aged fellow in a new Mustang who was also going down to Dallas. We tossed our AWOL bags in the trunk and departed. We all traded names; the driver's was Guy.
We were all smoking cigarettes as we rode through the wintry, central Texas night with the windows cracked.
After about half-an-hour, the driver asked we'd ever heard of marijuana. We both said we'd heard of it but hadn't ever had any. He asked if we'd like to try it and both of us said yes, naturally. So he reached two, thin, hand-rolled 'cigarettes' from his shirt pocket and handed one to Danny and one to me and said, "Light up, but not like a Camel. You take a drag like a regular smoke, but hold it in your lungs as long as you can and exhale slowly."
I got the hang of it right away, and the ride unfolded merrily. Guy had a couple of six-packs of Lone Star, and we were all laughing and scratching all the way down to Big D. When we could see the lights, Guy asked us if we had a place to stay, and neither Danny nor I did. But as Danny was deserting, which he had revealed once we left Wichita Falls, he wanted to keep moving.
I guess it was about midnight, so I accepted the offer, inasmuch as I thought I'd have more than adequate accommodations the next night and several, before I had to return to duty. We drove somewhere in the city, near downtown, I think. It was a large, tall, apartment building. We entered the garage underneath, took an elevator to a high floor, where I entered a very large room full of art and antiques.
Guy asked what I drank, I said Scotch. He asked if I wanted another joint, and I accepted. He inquired about my home and family, asked about my life pre-USAF, why I was in Dallas, did I have plans.
At the time I thought I did and I said so. He seemed disappointed. But then he asked me if I needed money, and I assented, "yes I did." So, he said. he'd give me $200 if I would "help" him.
By this time, it was about 4AM. He told me what he wanted me to do. It was weird: He told me he was going to get undressed and get into his walk-in shower, turn the water on and start to masturbate, and he'd pay me $200 to stand outside the shower in my jockey shorts and hurl pingpong balls at him as hard as I could til he came. I could join him if I felt like it.
I didn't. But I flung a whole net sack full of multi-colored plastic balls at him as hard as I could.
I had got the money first, so I got dressed, got my gear, and split for a coffee shop.
As it would happen, my New Year's date stood me up, and I had to find lodging. In Dallas. On New Year's. With the Cotton Bowl crowds. Rooms were dear znd scarce, and didn't have means of locomotion except the Dallas Transit on holiday schedule, so I spent the 31st walking from hotel to hotel trying to find a room and when I did find one, it ate up a big chunk of the money I'd so nefariously got. I had enough for bus fare back to Shepard on Jan 2.
