It was 1975 at Eldorado High School and it had just snowed. A pretty good dump for Albuquerque. One of those rare snows that didn’t shut down the entire school system. Jones, in his infinite wisdom, thought it would be a great idea to go throw snowballs at cars. Me and Pissant didn’t really want to do it, but Jones, and this new kid, Blane were up for it. Someone else was there too, but I don’t remember. It might have been Alan “Hairlip” Schactner (so-called by Jones because Alan had an actual moustache.) This other new kid, some guy called Gallini, showed up and he seemed willing to go along with the whole thing.We crossed the Montgomery Boulevard to, what was then, a vacant lot. Cars would drive by and we’d half-assedly chuck snowballs. I had to admit, that I wasn’t trying hard. I was the good kid. Jones was the type of kid who loved trouble, but hated doing it himself and so always made the rest of us join in. When I say “made us” I mean he’d call us pusses or something.
I remember at one point, someone saying “here comes a car.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw the others throwing as I bent down to pack some snow in a ball. I stood up and saw everyone running. I started after them, and as I did, I looked back over my shoulder. There was a car stopped. The driver had what looked like a broomstick shoved out his window.
There was a cinderblock wall that bordered the empty field. All we needed to do was hop it into someone’s backyard and we were free. There was a POP-POP-POP sound and I looked next to me. This Gallini kid was about ten feet away.
“Fuckin’ Jones!” I shouted. We’re getting chased and he’s lighting off firecrackers!”
As Gallini and I approached the wall, chunks off it exploded. The broomstick we’d seen was a rifle, and the fucker was shooting at us. We vaulted the wall in unison and kept on running. We hooked up Nassau and ran East for a half-mile. And cut a wide arc around the school, heading to Gallini’s house over on Tracy Court to lay low.
There was no way we were going back to school that day. We just sat around an shot the shit. Got high. I think it was the first time we really talked. I found out that he was into skiing and rock-climbing. That he had just moved to Albuquerque from Memphis. Oh, yeah, and that his name wasn’t Gallini. It was Vance Deniston. He was Blane’s brother. Gallini was just slang for a cigarette, something he was always bumming.
That’s what I remember as the first day that Vance and I became friends.
Being shot at and jumping over block walls; hearing the ricochet inches from your head was quite a head-rush. It happened once before in Memphis, Tenn.. I think that my brother or Cory threw a rock at a car travelling along Austin Peay Hwy. in Raliegh. The car slammed brakes and turned into the brand new McDonalds next to the Church as we hauled ass towords the dumpster. "Dive, dive over the wall" I screamed to Blane and Cory. Fuck Olga Corbit, our form was a perfect 10, like trained seals at a water show the three of us cleared with ease the block wall. Then off to the safe hideout in the woods where we took our soggy cigarettes from our socks and proceeded to smoke half an acre of tobacco. Once our hearts slowed down enough to think straight, we promptly went to the Shop-n-go and stoled two Chunkie Bars w/ raisens.
ReplyDeleteAh, yes. Chunkie bars with raisins. MMMmmmm!!
ReplyDeleteThe same sort of snowball incedent happened at Alans house, probably that same year. Dark, clear and cold with alot of snow around that night and again, "someone" started throwing snowballs at cars. We knew we couldn't run into Alans (his parents) house so we looked like rats running from an inner-city dumpster. This activity really got the heart pumping.
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