It was the heyday of Spring Break in South Florida and my friend, we’ll call him ‘Scott’ and I were ready for the time of our lives.
We cut class early and set out for Daytona Beach, with no reservations, no specific plan and an ice chest full of various items of liquid refreshment. We had a destination in mind, the beach, and our stops along the way mapped out, every strip club between Arkansas and Miami.
We made a few stops along I-40 in Memphis, skipping our usual spots as we knew we’d be back, and made our way to Nashville. When we got to the Music City, we made a run or two through a few interesting looking locals but they all seemed relatively quiet. We then came upon a more upscale club, it was a chain but still seemed to have potential.
After paying the cover, getting a drink at the bar and finding an advantageous place to sit things started to heat up. The music was rocking, the drinks were flowing, the ladies were gorgeous and extremely accommodating. While Scott had gone to a VIP section to spend some time with a new acquaintance, a lovely young woman came and sat next to me. She was, well, smoking hot and could carry on a reasonably intelligent conversation.
We exchanged the normal platitudes and she finally asked, “Where are you guys going?” I told her we were headed for Spring Break in Florida, when she remarked “Really?” She then began to tell me how she and her roommate, who worked at the club down the street had been invited to dance at the biggest and best club in Pensacola during Spring Break and that they were planning on making several thousand dollars while they were there. The only problem is that her transmission had gone out the day before and it would be a week before it was finished. My response…”Really?”
I hadn’t told her where in Florida we were going so she asked if we might give them a ride to Pensacola. They would be ready first thing in the morning, She promised it would be lots of fun and worth our while.
I didn’t let her know this would take us 4 hours out of our way or that we had told everyone where we were headed. I just said ‘Yes’. I may have yelled it, I’m not sure but the response was defiantly positive.
The problem was, I had that one fleeting moment of conscience. One thought about someone other than myself and I said, “But let me ask my buddy first.” Famous last words.
I found Scott on the other side of the bar and said “Dude!” I can’t help but call people ‘Dude’ when I have exciting news to tell them. “You won’t believe what I have just worked out!”
As I related the sad tale of the two beautiful strippers, their broken car, their shattered dreams and our heroic potential, his eyes got bigger (to be expected), his jaw dropped closer to the floor (of course), but unexpectedly his face became whiter and whiter. “Oh, No!” he exclaimed, “They’ll murder us and steal all of our stuff.”
For a moment I stood still as my life, past and future, flashed in front of my eyes. I didn’t pass out and, for some reason, I reach out to choke him. I just said, “What stuff?” We had nothing but some beach wear and alcohol. They weren’t going to rob and kill us and anyway, who cares if they did?
But he was panic stricken. It was too real. Just as the promise of fun outweighed the risk for me, it was the opposite for Scott.
Sure, I could have left him there. I could have headed to Pensacola with these 2 resplendent women and him in the back seat cowering and clutching his suitcase. But no, I was the nice guy. The good friend. The one who wasn’t going to ruin my buddies Spring Break with a terror filled side trip to the Gulf. I just put my head down and said, “Fine, you go tell her.”
I don’t know if he did or not. I just went out to the car and didn’t say 3 words until we got to Atlanta.
We did finally make it to Daytona and met the goal of hitting every club between here and there. We had an incredibly fun time and have many great stories to tell from the trip. But for the next 20 years I could only imagine what might have been.
I could have been trapped in Pensacola and made to work at this giant strip club. Moving up the ladder of management from, bus boy, to bouncer, to talent scout and beyond. Living from party to party. Having to dress in $1000.00 suits with alligator boots. Listening to rock and roll with sublimely gorgeous women every night. Instead, I didn’t. It doesn’t really matter where or what I am doing now, its not that.
To this day, whenever I see Scott, I have to remind him of what could have been but never was.