Almost On The Chain Gang
Postponed Concert Almost Led Me To Jail
August 4th 1984 in New Hyde Park, Long Island. It had been a warm night and we were in the 80’s (30’s c) before noon. You remember, don’t ya?
Doubt it, if you are anything like me, you can’t recall what yesterday’s WORDLE was.
With my life about to change in October with a move to Australia, I was saving money and living with my friend Glenn Larsen in New Hyde Park. We had the Fire House horn on one side of the house (it blew at noon and 6 PM…and when there was an emergency) and the Long Island Railroad barreling down the other side.
We were 27 years old, both working in the Telephone Reservations office of a now defunct airline, Northwest Orient. The tales of that workplace could fill pages. Amazingly enough, there are some tight friendships that came from working shift work and talking to people around the USA about flights, fares and the like.
Most of us in the reservations office were passing through. This was not a career move. We loved the perks and the free flights. I had already been to Jamaica, Australia and a couple of other places.
Little did I know when I moved to Australia I would find myself back in the airline business working for Air New Zealand for 14 years.
I digress.
Later on August 4th, we planned to groove with The Pretenders and Simple Minds at Jones Beach Theatre. I had seen them in Australia in January 1984 at the Narara Festival, so I was very much looking to see them at the beach. This line-up of The Pretenders was growing on me.
At Narara. I had backstage passes and I sat with a bunch of musicians eating some catering and I recall Chrissie yelling out to someone, “Where the hell is the milk!?” in her broad American accent. Jim Kerr and her seemed like they were getting close. They tied the knot in May of 1984. Jim was 24 and Chrissie was 31. The road took its toll the biographies say as they split 6 years later.
Glenn had the radio on, as there was no internet, or social media and WLIR and WNEW were still fabulous FM Stations back then. Word came through that Chrissie had injured herself and the show would be postponed until the 5th of August. This was in the afternoon and we were pumped to do something on a beautiful Saturday.
“Glenn, let’s go to Tortilla Flats for Mexican and Margaritas later on!”
Glenn was keen, so the plan was solidified. My brother and his now ex-wife Amy were away, and they said I could use their car while they were gone as I had been looking after their place. Her car was a couch on wheels. It was a 1970s Pontiac Bonneville with Ohio Plates. My sister and her husband christened it “The Battleship Ohio" due to its length/size.
Actually, I can’t recall if they said I could use the car. Whatever, we took it for a spin.
“Hey, Glenn, I will drive and we can take Amy’s luxury tank.”
Glenn was fine with that and I was always the driver back then,. You see, we had no rules around driving after a few drinks or whatever other medication we had self-prescribed. Sometimes there were multi-colored animals flying through the air and Glenn once saw a rabbit in a car next to us. Not driving, but certainly a human-sized rabbit in the passenger seat.
Yeah, Glenn was a bit pyschedlically impacted when he saw that rabbit….I was driving and laughing….and later on I reminded him it was Halloween.
I grabbed us both a beer for the ride into Manhattan and a handy baggie of weed in case we wanted to smoke a joint. This was normal behavior for me(and my mates) back then. My job was starting to wind down, and I was moving to Australia in two months. I was in end-of-summer party mode and ready to have a good time.
We were going to get much more fucked up at Tortilla Flats. That always happened.
I had found a micro-cassette recorder at a subway station one night that summer and had been carrying it around with me recording conversations with friends. It was fun and I thought having some of their voices with me when I moved to Australia would be sweet. Long-distance calls were expensive back in 1984.
When my brother moved there in 1972 they were even more expensive and we would plan the time so we would have as many people there to say ‘hi’. With time lag on the call, it would make communication very difficult. Letters were easier! Much cheaper, too.
We had the Air Con pumping along with the music blasting and we arrived at Tequila (sic) Flats around 630 PM and started in with their tasty margaritas and continued that process with food for a couple of hours. We went out and smoked a joint at some point and maybe we switched to beers. My memory is not that clear. I do know we had a good feed and many laughs with other folks we met. Tortilla Flats was always a good hang. Don’t go looking for it today as the greasy Mexican spoon closed in 2018.
Time to head back to Long Island, which would be about a 1/2 hour drive back then, and off we sailed in the battleship. We had the windows open, Glenn had reclined the leather seat and had his bare feet out the window. We were talking and laughing and I had started the tape recorder as we headed eastbound.
Glenn’s singing along and I am looking down 20th Street and see something going on along the side of the road. There is no other traffic around and I focus and see 2 cops standing there and they are waving me over. I am not speeding but I am a bit lit!
I stop the car and the conversation begins.
Cop 1-"Good Evening Boys, how are you tonight?”
As this was directed at me in the driver’s seat, I told him all was good.
Cop 2- “Where have you been this evening?”
At this stage, I told him I was a sovereign citizen and I had nothing….of course I did not.
Me: “We just had dinner at Tortilla Flats on the West Side.”
Cop 1- “Fine. Do you have your license and registration for the car? Are you from Ohio?”
Me- “Sure. Can I turn the car off first?” (Fuck, as I reached down to turn the car off I observe that I had already done that!) “ No, I am from Long Island. But my license is going to say, Brooklyn, it is a bit of a story.”
Shut up, Paul!! (I said to myself)
Cop 2-: '“Yeah, sure. Hey, do you know you can get a ticket for him having his feet out the window?” He points to Glenn’s feet.
Glenn- “Well, shouldn’t I get the ticket, they are my feet?”
I threw him a look that said SHUT THE FUCK UP….and probably rolled my eyes for impact.
One cop laughed and the other was obviously playing the bad cop and he repeated his request for my license and registration. I opened the glove compartment. (Note: Isn’t the glove compartment such a quaint name?) As I opened the glove box, there were no gloves, but like a jack in the box the 150 maps that were in there accordioned out at me. It was much too hot for my driving gloves on this summer evening.
Actually, I was sweating a bit under the t-shirt I was wearing now.
At this point, I decided to get Glenn involved, with his feet now inside the battleship, and said can you dig around in there and see if you can find the registration?
Me: “Do you mind if I get out of the car?”
Cop 1: “Sure.”
As I got out of the car I tossed Glenn the 1/4 ounce of weed to hide somewhere.
I handed the cops my license, back in the day when your license in New York was just a piece of paper. There was no picture or anything just the facts, ma’am.
At this stage, I finally asked the question that had been puzzling me for the first however many minutes we had been detained.
Me: “What have you pulled me over for?”
At this stage, the weed, margaritas, and beer impact had left my body and I was feeling pretty straight. I was not wobbly or slurring. Those things don’t happen to me when I drink. I’m usually pretty happy and in control.
Cop 2: “Yeah, well, we have this new equipment we are testing out tonight.
Me: “What type of equipment would that be?” (As my mind wonders what the hell is going on here?!!)
Cop 1: “It’s a breathalyzer and it measures the blood alcohol level in your body. Have you been drinking tonight?”
Shit. What is my answer? Well, I told them we were coming from dinner so the correct answer is….
Me: “Yes, we just had dinner and I had 3 beers with my food.”
I had 3 beers before I even got to dinner.
Glenn: “I found it!”
He is waving the Ohio registration out the window of the car where his feet used to be.
For the next 5 minutes, they checked my paperwork and I explained who owned the car and why I was driving it. I think I actually told them about the RBT laws in Australia that I had learned about earlier in the year. I was doing anything I could to display sober behaviour and that they would not make me breathe into the machine.
Cop 1: “OK, well we want to run a test on you to see what your alcohol level is. Can you breathe into the straw?”
I was going to ask them if they could get Glenn’s feet to do the test but I thought better of it.
They held the straw, attached to a machine I had never seen before, up to my mouth and I did my best to blow around it and not allow my over-the-limit carbon dioxide to register much in the machine.
They tell me to stop, the machine beeps…..I am feeling a bit of more sweat and I am certain it is fear and not the warm summer night.
Cop 2: “We did not get a reading. You are going to have to do it again.”
Jesus, I am thinking now, I am going to go to jail and this is 2 months before I move to Australia and I don’t need this hassle in my life right now.
But I am staying cool.
Me: (laughing) “Come on now, what is this double or nothing?”
Cop 1-Laughs
Cop 2- “Come on now, just breathe into the tube again”
Cop 2 was the BAD COP in this routine.
We have been there for close to 20 minutes. I have been walking around, not acting drunk, and clear in my communication.
I breathe into the tube again this time making sure they will get a reading.
Beep.
Cop 2: “So, where are you going now?”
I am not going to tell them I am about to drive 30 minutes to where we live on Long Island. Also, I am damn certain whatever reading that new fangled machine had given them said “DO NOT COLLECT 200. GO DIRECTLY TO JAIL.”
Me: “ I am just going to park the car a bit closer to 2nd or 3rd Avenue and then we are going to (name of club I can’t recall) and we are staying with friends in the City tonight.”
The cops exchanged looks and I awaited judgment. Glenn was watching silently.
Cop 1: “OK, so no more driving tonight, then?”
I repeated clearly what I had already said.
They said to have a good night and I got into the car and drove carefully and slowly away.
Glenn and I pulled over a few blocks away and laughed and relived that crazy ass moment. We then proceeded to roll a joint and head the car to the Queens Midtown Tunnel and we drove back to Long Island for more beers and frivolity.
The next night The Pretenders, who had reformed in 1983 after the deaths of Pete Farndon and James Honeyman-Scott, blew the non-existent roof off the outdoors Jones Beach Theatre.
We had a fabulous night dancing and partying. There were no more breathalyzers.
Of course, we drove. “My City Was Gone” was a very popular song….and we were back to Ohio….at least the Bonneville with Ohio plates.
Run, Battleship, Run.
PS- I so wish I still had the tape of that evening…it was very entertaining.