Aqualung (Cam the Homeless Guy)
Let’s wish a Happy Independence Day to our Albanian friends (like James and John Belushi as well as Mother Teresa). Also, Happy Birthday to our favorite political satirist John Stewart and to Pearl Jam drummer Matt Cameron who are 44 years old today.
Several years ago, before the days when the School Girl and I were married or even dating, Green Machine and I used to make a myriad of trips to downtown Nash-vegas in order to get drunk, attempt to pick up women and for just a general good time.
One fall week night (or so my convoluted brain seems to remember it) we decided to roll on the town for a night of spiriting. If I recollect correctly, this particular night the Boston based rock band Aerosmith was playing at Starwood (or AmSouth Amphitheater, or whatever it is called) and we were unable to procure tickets.
We decided to visit Bailey’s Bar & Grill located on Broadway for some beer and random shots. Nothing too significant happened that evening beyond a few terribly played games of nine-ball by me. The Green Machine generally destroys me when it comes to that but I can usually save face when a good game of darts is played. From time to time at various watering holes, tobacco company representatives will set up a table and hand out free cigarettes. I am never one to turn down free smokes so I was able to snatch up about three to four packs from the Camel girl. It was a good day because I was low and hate to pay the exorbitant prices at the bar vending machines.
Several hours later I was feeling pretty good (okay, okay, I was loaded!). We decided it was time to leave and most likely head to the homestead. While strolling down Broadway I realized that I was extremely inebriated and was having a hard time walking a straight line. Luckily I was not driving. I remember crossing one of the side streets with my goal set on the trash receptacle on the other side so that I could lean and take a rest. I managed to meander my way through the stopped cars and get to the round metal refuse bin. I leaned my backside up against the rim and proceeded to slide right off and stumble onto the busy street. Luckily, I had no injuries except for my pride.
It was about that time that I noticed a vagabond standing near us over by what was probably “his” bench. Come to find out later it was where the poor guy slept. I remember picking myself up and getting a rousing guffaw from my good pal the Green Machine. Out of drunken friendliness, I greeted the local hobo and asked him his name. He told us that his name was Cam (I guess short for Cameron). He was a very affable fellow and seemed to treat us with reverence. Apparently, Cam the Homeless Guy (as I started to call him) was out of cigarettes and was hoping that I would be able to let him have one. Now, I had my three unopened packs of cigarettes in my pants pockets. I also had a pack in my left shirt pocket which was visible to Cam; however, it only had one left inside.
I, being very intoxicated, felt it was my duty to have a good time with Cam and keep myself and the Green Machine entertained. I told Cam that I only had the one cigarette left and was hesitant to just give it away. “Show me what you have in your pockets,” I told him. He seemed a bit taken aback. He slowly reached into his grimy side pocket and pulled out his only worldly possession. “All I have is this Swiss Army knife,” he exclaimed with saddened eyes. So I snatched it from his shaking fingers and began to examine it. I told him that his knife was very nice and it seemed like a pretty fair trade for my very last Camel Light. He stuttered as he explained that this was his only knife and really didn’t want to part with it, so I handed his knife back. I tried to tell Cam that if he really wanted that nicotine fix, he would probably need to consider letting go of his pride and joy. Ultimately, Cam put his head down and began to push the Swiss Army knife towards me in defeat. Around this moment I decided that I was terribly drunk and dizzy and ready to go home so I let him in on the ruse. I pulled out my three unopened packs of smokes from my pockets and told him that I was only joking with him. I am pretty sure that he was slightly annoyed but relieved when I let him keep his knife and handed him a few cigarettes for his troubles. I bet he cursed me pretty good to his homeless buddies down at the mission that night. Words to the wise, if you ever decided to be a homeless dude, make sure that you have plenty of items to trade for cigarettes or booze or whatever so that you won’t be messed with by mean guys like me and the Green Machine.
Several years ago, before the days when the School Girl and I were married or even dating, Green Machine and I used to make a myriad of trips to downtown Nash-vegas in order to get drunk, attempt to pick up women and for just a general good time.
One fall week night (or so my convoluted brain seems to remember it) we decided to roll on the town for a night of spiriting. If I recollect correctly, this particular night the Boston based rock band Aerosmith was playing at Starwood (or AmSouth Amphitheater, or whatever it is called) and we were unable to procure tickets.
We decided to visit Bailey’s Bar & Grill located on Broadway for some beer and random shots. Nothing too significant happened that evening beyond a few terribly played games of nine-ball by me. The Green Machine generally destroys me when it comes to that but I can usually save face when a good game of darts is played. From time to time at various watering holes, tobacco company representatives will set up a table and hand out free cigarettes. I am never one to turn down free smokes so I was able to snatch up about three to four packs from the Camel girl. It was a good day because I was low and hate to pay the exorbitant prices at the bar vending machines.
Several hours later I was feeling pretty good (okay, okay, I was loaded!). We decided it was time to leave and most likely head to the homestead. While strolling down Broadway I realized that I was extremely inebriated and was having a hard time walking a straight line. Luckily I was not driving. I remember crossing one of the side streets with my goal set on the trash receptacle on the other side so that I could lean and take a rest. I managed to meander my way through the stopped cars and get to the round metal refuse bin. I leaned my backside up against the rim and proceeded to slide right off and stumble onto the busy street. Luckily, I had no injuries except for my pride.
It was about that time that I noticed a vagabond standing near us over by what was probably “his” bench. Come to find out later it was where the poor guy slept. I remember picking myself up and getting a rousing guffaw from my good pal the Green Machine. Out of drunken friendliness, I greeted the local hobo and asked him his name. He told us that his name was Cam (I guess short for Cameron). He was a very affable fellow and seemed to treat us with reverence. Apparently, Cam the Homeless Guy (as I started to call him) was out of cigarettes and was hoping that I would be able to let him have one. Now, I had my three unopened packs of cigarettes in my pants pockets. I also had a pack in my left shirt pocket which was visible to Cam; however, it only had one left inside.
I, being very intoxicated, felt it was my duty to have a good time with Cam and keep myself and the Green Machine entertained. I told Cam that I only had the one cigarette left and was hesitant to just give it away. “Show me what you have in your pockets,” I told him. He seemed a bit taken aback. He slowly reached into his grimy side pocket and pulled out his only worldly possession. “All I have is this Swiss Army knife,” he exclaimed with saddened eyes. So I snatched it from his shaking fingers and began to examine it. I told him that his knife was very nice and it seemed like a pretty fair trade for my very last Camel Light. He stuttered as he explained that this was his only knife and really didn’t want to part with it, so I handed his knife back. I tried to tell Cam that if he really wanted that nicotine fix, he would probably need to consider letting go of his pride and joy. Ultimately, Cam put his head down and began to push the Swiss Army knife towards me in defeat. Around this moment I decided that I was terribly drunk and dizzy and ready to go home so I let him in on the ruse. I pulled out my three unopened packs of smokes from my pockets and told him that I was only joking with him. I am pretty sure that he was slightly annoyed but relieved when I let him keep his knife and handed him a few cigarettes for his troubles. I bet he cursed me pretty good to his homeless buddies down at the mission that night. Words to the wise, if you ever decided to be a homeless dude, make sure that you have plenty of items to trade for cigarettes or booze or whatever so that you won’t be messed with by mean guys like me and the Green Machine.
posted by LeBlanc at 9:31 AM
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