Gigi's Detroit

The girl that wanted me to take her virginity, well, her older brother was the one who first took me there. I was seventeen and I allowed my older sister Shelly to perm my hair because the long-feathered style was going out of style. It stunk when she did it. I needed to look twenty-three. That was the age on my fake ID, so I cropped the picture and 'voila'; I had proof of my lie. I had a big smile in that picture not just because I had my braces taken off two weeks prior but because I knew once I entered the adult world there was no turning back.

Nothing but smiling every day, all day that week. It was our homecoming football game, late October. I agreed to escort a senior girl candidate for queen. Tammy Tungsten. She had a body on her. I liked how she danced to AC/DC so I said yes. She didn't win but our picture looked the best on printed paper. Isn't that how it always is? It didn't matter, not to me anyway.

Five corvettes drove around the field: all of them different colors. We opened the convertible doors and walked the girls up the stage. One by one they announced us all, three of us guys in uniform gear; all five girls in white dresses. We had one black girl representative, Charlette, I was proud of that fact, but she didn't win either. Our high school homecoming queen was a girl jock named Judy. Those high school queens were nothing compared to the queens I'd be seeing later that night after the football game. But back then, I didn't have a clue.

Well, not really. I was naïve and trusting. That was stupid. I knew why I was so friendly but that didn't matter either. We kicked off. We looked tough in our shoulder pads with black chalk underneath our eyes. We were better than decent but no Detroit Lions (Ha). We were the Belleville Tigers. How lame, right? I'd rather have been a Viking with navy green and maze uniforms, but this was middle class suburbia, during a time of increased busing.

Orange and black striped helmets were the best aspects of our uniforms. We ran and we hit hard enough to win 34 to 6. Under my breath I called the other team Saps while my friend Steve and I slapped the hands of our opponents. We always went to the back of the line, being comfortable with who we are.

I rinsed off in the showers with my teammates. We did the wet towel snaps like the best little whore house in Texas, but we didn't dance in the showers. Instead, our bare bones locker room had a three D mascot painted on the wall. I was not exactly proud of our school because I thought we could have all gotten along a little better, if everyone had tried. Too many rednecks mixed with too many black kids who didn't care, did not make up for a healthy student body. The act of trying to get others to get along earned the honor as an aristocrat.

I was the vice president of student council but could not iron out a peace treaty. My acquaintances called me sheriff, but my closest friends called me Joe. Sports were my life. None of my teammates knew where I was going or what I was up to, and I fathom I didn't quite know myself. However, I did know I wanted a real drink in a real club in a real city real bad. Whew! Thank God it's Friday!

I toweled off proudly in front of the power dryer and patted my pits and hairy chest a few extra times for showmanship. A serious reflection glimpsed at me in the mirror for a moment, I decided not to take myself so seriously. I felt alone. I dressed fast, grabbed my keys and cash and drove my ass down the graveled dirt roads to Kevin's. Windows down, music blaring as I switched back and forth between Journey and Prince. The phrases 'don't stop believing' and 'controversy' rolled through my head stereo. I parked my jalopy alongside the rusted old tractors exhaling as I did so.

New tennis shoes hopping on the portico. Kevin smashed his face up against the screen like a cadaver while I slugged 20/20 Mad Dog. 'How's the middleman?" My middle finger went up as I gallantly displayed my ID.

'Bite that zombie.' I said.

'Leif Garrett. You look like Leif Garrett'. Kevin called for Susie. Susie come look at Sheriff?'