Party Crashers & The Crackhead

Over the years, I've crashed dozens of private parties. The free alcohol and food is only a small part of the fun. Being somewhere forbidden is great and the exclusivity of it all is usually worth the risk.

The day in question Fred & I had nothing better to do. This Friday night in Cleveland seemed tame and we already drank at a few bars in the flats with nothing going on. We decided to head uptown to a swanky hotel next to Tower City. We had one drink at the hotel bar when I heard some girls mention a private party to honor Les Paul. I knew he was some great guitarist back in the day and had a lot to do with the electric guitar being made. So we decided to look for this party. We went up & down in the elevators, checking on many of the top floors, but couldn't find any parties. There were some floors we didn't have access to and we needed a plan. Somehow we found an employee elevator. It had paddings on the elevator walls and looked pretty shabby compared to the other elegant elevators. We kept going up floor by floor until we heard the roar of the party. We got off and wondered to the party door.

We almost walked right in, when some skanky chick asked for our passes. Fred, looked at the woman and said, "Passes? We were told we didn't need them" She asked who would have told us that. At that moment I knew how to continue the story. I had interned at WMMS, our local rock station, the previous year. I still had a shabby looking expired ID. With a little luck & a lot of bullshit, that would be our pass. I showed her my ID and said we were here to cover the party.
You could tell in her eyes, it could go either way. What put it over the top was Fred's crazed & annoyed demeanor. She reluctantly let us in and we headed right to the drinks. We got some bad wine first but soon found the woman with the beers. Later we got glasses of champagne when we realized they were celebrating something. I can't recall what it was, but it was something like 50 years of the electric guitar or maybe Les's Birthday; who knows.

After hanging at the party for an hour we took off. It was only about 11 and we were still bored. Fred decided he wanted some weed. Neither of us really smoked it, but boredom will make you do crazy shit. We found some guy at the corner of street and Fred asked him if he had any bud. He said he just sold his last joint but had some hash. I didn't really believe the guy at this point, but Fred was drunker than me as I was driving. We paid $25 for the stuff and were on our way. We went to some bar and put the stuff under a glass & lit it up, just like your supposed to. At some point we realize it was not real. I thought it was a piece of tar from the street and went outside and found many identical pieces laying around. Now, Fred was mad. He wasn't going to be taken by some homeless crackhead. He said, we're going after him. I told him the odds of us finding him were pretty hopeless. We went to the corner where we bought the hash which was near the flats, but he was gone. We looked at a few other spots, while stopping to have a few drinks, but couldn't find him. We decided to call it a night & started driving home.
Up by 55th street and 60 blocks away from the flats, we saw the guy.

We pulled up and Fred demanded our money back. The crackhead denied our request. I started acting like a maniac, thinking I could scare the guy into submission. I yelled for Fred to get my gun out of the Glovebox. I didn't even have gloves in there, but thought it was a decent bluff. What really helped is while I was trying to open the glove compartment, Fred was holding it closed yelling, "Don't shoot him, Don't shoot him!". They crackhead was scared now & started throwing money into Fred's side of the car window. He gave us $22, mostly in singles and yelled, "I swear, that's all I have, I swear." He turned all his all is pockets inside out for us to see, but a small joint fell out. I said, "We'll take that too, if you want to live". He gave it to us and we were on our way. We had to leave quickly as I was holding back a lot of laughter throughout the whole ordeal.

Hookers on Prospect

Back in the day, The hookers owned Prospect Road. In the 70's and 80's they walked the streets night and day. It became a Scenic drive-by for the residents. I remember being around 11 years old while my dad drove down the street. He'd always say, "Let's go past the hookers", as if they were a historic site. Maybe they were. The hookers would be 3 and 4 girls deep in the street, blocking 1 or maybe 2 car lanes. People didn't seem to mind. They seemed to like watching the girls in neon hot pants and go go boots. You need to keep in mind that this was well before Internet porn and before cable pay channels.

So by the time I was 15 Chris and I decided it was time to visit the hookers...up close. Chris was my best friend at the time & we often talked about how we were going to get laid. We were 15. We couldn't drive, drink or do anything fun outside of pac-man & wizard of war. Sneaking into R Rated flicks were are only source of deviance. Although, I couldn't drive, my older brother did own a blue '76 camaro. It seemed I should borrow it & drive down to Prospect. Chris agreed and off we went. It was later in the evening on a Sunday and we quickly found a girl that met with Chris's approval. She was a smaller white girl and the negotiated price was $15 or $20 for a BJ, I think. She was going to do it in the car, but I was against that. Beside the fact that I didn't want to be arrested for soliciting prostitutes and beside the fact that I'd also be in trouble for driving underage & without a license. The main reason I didn't want it to happen is obvious. I didn't want to watch my friend get blown inches from me. For some reason it's ok to watch a dude get blown in a porn, but up close & personal would be weird. Especially if you know the cock in question. At any rate, I turned him away and into the alley. They walked about three quarters of the way down it and I could see her figure become half her height as she bent down on her knees. I was just hanging out for a few moments, listening to the radio. I could see the shadows dance on the alley wall, as the hooker was bobbing back & forth frantically. Only later in life, did I decide that proper BJ's should start out slow & build towards that frantic speed. Well, I guess this whore wasn't going for style points. I'm sure she was just being efficient, after all, time is money on Prospect.

By now, another hooker had spied me and was on her way over to me. I remember she had on some kind of evening dress, that might have looked nice or even elegant at one time. Now, it just looked like a faded, partially see-through second hand thing. My windows were rolled up and my locks secure, since I was scared shitless. The neighborhoods where hookers hang out are usually unsafe and Cleveland was no exception in 1983. She kept motioning for me to roll down the window as she moved up to my brother's car. I decided to just talk to her with the windows up, since I was frightened to death. After a few minutes of coaxing, she somehow got me to roll the window down just far enough for her to get an arm inside. Her hand quickly found my junk and for approximately 6 seconds I was considering this hooker for services rendered. That's when I noticed her enormous adam's apple. It was about as big as my head and I soon began to wish that I was seeing my friend get his dick sucked in the car, rather than this guy with his hands on my cock & balls.

It all happened rather quickly from here. Once I realized she was a he I started to panic like a trainee at a nuclear power plant melt down. I remember screaming and trying to push its arm out of the window. The thing is, since the window was only open a few inches, the arm moved easier into the car than out. So as I was pushing it's arm, the skin was pinching against the glass. Now I'm screaming, Lola is screaming and I started hitting the horn with my free hand. I wanted to roll the window down to get it's hand the fuck out of the car. However, I was afraid to roll the window down too much because Lola could open my door and rob me or rape me or who the hell knows what. I decided to take the risk & roll it down just for a second, but initially I rolled it up tighter and Lola screamed again. I quickly rolled it down this time and it got it's arm and bear paw out of the car. I continued to honk the horn & flash my brights at the beast. Chris meanwhile was in a panic himself. He heard my horn and thought it was either a warning that the cops were coming or that the noise would soon alert them. Chris came barrelling out the alleyway, pants down to his ankles with a bewildered hooker behind him and another beast-whore in front of him, who was retreating to the shadows by now.

All the way home Chris cursed me because he paid cash for an unfinished product, if you know what I mean.