Bleeding Perseverance - Episode 40

Autobiography Fridays

With the help of a house-finding agency Mom ended up finding a two bedroom on Del Vina Street there in Pasadena. It was actually a three bedroom, but the owner kept one room locked up, saying it was his mother’s room and that she might occasionally stay there if need be. Well, we were desperate, so Mom agreed to such an odd situation. Fortunately, no one used the room during our four months there.

Meanwhile I wasn’t having much luck with the job search but had come across an attractive ad. ‘Earn $100 a day working part time as a bartender!’ It was an advertisement for The National Bartender School in Covina, about an hour and a half away by bus. After calling for more info I was on my way to the school.

The course offered was a two-week program, but you could actually take as long as you needed, with most people doing it in three to four weeks. The cost was seven hundred dollars, but you could enroll with just a hundred down. If you finished before the balance was paid they‟d keep your certificate until the bill was taken care of. Although I was nineteen and therefore couldn’t work in a bar, the law would allow me to work at parties since it was considered catering. So after going over everything I decided the venture would be worth it and handed over my last hundred from my radio station prize money.

I‟ve never done so much memorizing in my life! After each one-hour lecture, which included watching the instructor make drinks, we’d have our practice time. The classroom was set up like a real bar and all the bottles of alcohol were the same color as the real deal, which was achieved with food coloring. Each day we’d go over a different class of drinks. For example, one day might be crème drinks, (Grasshopper, Pink Lady, etc) while the next would be shooters. (Hot Fuck, Buttered Nimple, Blow Job - Yeah, I thought some of the names were interesting too!)

To help us remember the drinks we were taught helpful little sayings. Like with the drink Godfather, you’d think of a mob boss who Shoots the Assholes. The S in Shoots and the A in Assholes stands for Scotch and Amaretto. With the Godmother, she Visits the Assholes once they’ve been shot. V for vodka, A for Amaretto. So those little tricks really helped.

Everywhere I went I had my small box of index cards with me to study every chance I had. Not only did you need to know the ingredients of a drink, but you needed to know how it was prepared, what type of glass to use and if it was a drink that included a garnish. Here’s an example:

Margarita

A. Margarita glass, lime and salt the rim.

B. Mixing glass, ¼ full of ice

C. 1 oz. tequila

D. ½ oz. triple sec

E. 1½ oz. sweet and sour

F. Pour. Lime wheel garnish. Slide a small straw in on the side. If it’s frozen you do the same thing, only add and blend ice accordingly.

As I was studying my ass off Daniel and I were getting to know the neighborhood kids there on Del Vina Street. Most of them were girls, barely teens, who had come over to say hi. The two guys there were Kenny, a fifteen-year-old, and Daniel, the thirteen-year-old kid next door who had strict parents. Kenny and I started hanging out and soon we were like best friends. They all would spend a lot of their time around the corner at this guy’s house. A forty something year old named Steve. He was single but basically harmless, which I guess is why all the parents didn’t mind.

One of the girls was Justine, who looked older than she was. Although we weren’t that far off in age, I was nineteen, which made her jailbait, so I stopped the thought from going any further. But if you think about it, such a society standard sucked for someone like me. Here I was, nineteen and still holding out for someone special. But the average girl was known to start becoming ‘sexually active’ at around Justine’s age, which meant finding someone pure like myself who was over eighteen would prove to be quite difficult. All those horny teenage guys out there not appreciating the gift of purity they were being given, while me, the good ol’ patient boy, only had one dream. To find my forever love. But like I said, I wasn’t about to become a criminal. I was a law-abiding citizen and definitely not a pedophile. So although I knew Justine would probably follow in the footsteps of the overwhelming majority of modern female teens by experiencing heartbreak after heartbreak during those loss-of-innocence years, I’d just have to ignore such a tragic fact and hold out for a truly unique one who proved to be special and not some statistic.

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Still promoting their second album, C.M.B. was scheduled to do an in-store signing at the Tower Records there in Pasadena. Of course I just had to go, and this would be the opportunity I needed to give Bryan his portrait. Also on that day the group would be taking part in a meet and greet dinner at the KIIS FM studios. Invitations to this small event could only be obtained by winning them on the air, so days before I had tried my best to be one of the lucky few. The problem was we didn’t have a phone at the house, so I spent a lot of time at a pay phone and at Steve’s house by his phone when I could.

The night before the big day I still hadn’t had any luck. The evening DJ, Domino, was the one promoting the contest, and I had called him every night asking for a break, but to no avail. On that last night I heard him on the air saying how he only had one invitation left, and that he’d be at the store signing the next day looking for the biggest C.M.B fan there to give the invitation to. So I called him once again, and by now he had remembered me.

I said, “Domino, all I ask is that you really do look for the biggest fan out there tomorrow. The one who spent all day waiting in line to ensure to be first. The one who’s not there to be a tantalizing sex pot, but rather a true supporter of C.M.B.’s great music. You’ll see me there at the front of the line wearing my custom-made C.M.B. jacket and holding a framed portrait of a nice piece of art work done of the lead singer, Bryan Abrams. My name is Rico and I’ll see you tomorrow”.

“Ok,” he replied. “We‟ll see.”

I had hired an artist in Hollywood to do the portrait. It cost me one hundred dollars but was well worth it in my eyes. I just wanted to give Bryan a small token of my appreciation for his great talent. There are countless recording artists out there, but to find one who truly reaches a place of truth when they sing is really rare. And Bryan had such a gift. So no, I wasn’t some hottie who liked the group for the fame. As Kate Hudson’s character was in Almost Famous, I was a ‘band-aid’, there purely for the music.

The following day I caught the first bus to where I needed to go, arriving at Tower Records at 5:30 a.m. All was cold and quiet, with not a soul around, the store still locked up from the night before. And so I took my place right by the entrance, staking my claim as the first person in line.

Around 7:30 the opening manager arrived. She seemed surprised and impressed that I had been out there since 5:30, as were the other employees as they arrived for work that morning. The meet and greet wasn’t scheduled until 6:00 p.m., so I’m lucky I had a strong bladder. That’s why if it’s at all possible, you should take someone along if you ever do something like this. Unfortunately, I didn’t have that option, so my drive is what kept me strong.

The first batch of people started lining up around noon, which meant I had about six hours on them. So if Domino turned out to be true to his word, I should have no problem proving I was the one who deserved that dinner invitation.

About five o’clock the man with the prized possession showed up. After watching him be approached by countless short skirts I managed to get his attention.

“Domino, it’s me, Rico. I told you, man. I told you I’d be the first in line! I’ve been here for eleven hours because I truly am the biggest fan. So did I earn that last invitation?”

More girls then started talking to him, and he told me to hang on. Shit, I thought to myself. Am I gonna lose out to another fad chaser again?! Just then the staff at Tower Records began to move the line into the store. I managed to get Domino’s attention one more time.

“Dude, I gotta go. They’re moving the line.”

He handed me an envelope and said, “Here, hold onto this for me. I’ll see you inside.”

As I entered the store I just knew the envelope contained the invitation, and I said a big YES! within. That sly Domino had me scared there for a minute, but he came through, and sure enough when I opened that envelope the paper inside said: You and a friend are cordially invited to have dinner with Color Me Badd at the KIIS FM Studios. I told myself to be sure to thank him the next time I saw him, then headed upstairs to see the guys.

And there they were, all seated behind a table ready to sign copies of their CD. Since it had only been a couple of months since the Arsenio meet they remembered me and asked how the rest of the family was doing. Bryan tripped out when I gave him the portrait, and either he was a great actor or he was genuinely into it.

“This is slammin’, man.! Thanks so much!”

We started talking a little bit, but since I was the first in line I was now beginning to hold it up and had to move along. I told the guys I’d be at the dinner, and they said, “Oh, cool man. We‟ll see you then.”

Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but I really think they appreciated the fact that I was sincerely into their music and not a fad chaser just looking to be part of their ‘in’ crowd.

As I left the store my brain started going a mile a minute since I had to figure out a way to actually get to and from the radio station. After such a long day I didn’t feel like being stuck in L.A. all night due to missing the last bus to Pasadena, but the only other thing I could think of