Falling Down (Ch. 20) - Randy Halprin
Randy Halprin
"We tend to see a person in the moment, not as the journey they travelled to get here." Kat Lehmann
Memoirs
FALLING DOWN : PART TWO (1996)
Chapter 20
(by Randy E. Halprin)
A Memoir
I woke up Monday morning, a week after New Year's day, having no idea what I was about to do. Emma said she had to get to work, so I decided to look around down town and see if any one was hiring. I rummaged through clothes for something decent, deciding on a pair of khaki dockers and a tan and blue Eddie Bauer sweater. Then, grabbing my tape player and popping in one of the tapes from “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness”, I put my coat on and headed out.
Walking down town I noticed a SUBWAY with a “Hiring” sign and because the place was familiar to me, I decided to apply for a job with them. I talked to the manager and she had me fill out an application, but when I couldn't list an address, she told me that they needed to hire someone with a stable living arrangement. “Okay,” I said. “I understand.”
Across the street was another small, privately owned, fast food place with another “Hiring” sign. The sign on the outside of the building said, “Steak Fest” and there was a picture of some middle eastern food, as well as Greek gyros, taped onto the window. I went inside and saw a beautiful, middle eastern lady cleaning tables, and an older man of similar ethnicity, behind the counter.
I walked up to the counter and told the man I was looking for a job...He reached behind the counter and pulled out an application and I filled it out. This time I put Emma's address on the form. Once filled out, I returned it to the man and he asked me if I was a college student.
“No...In between high school and college.” I said...I was being honest!
“When can you work?” He asked.
“Right now.”
“Right now?”
“I can start right now. Whatever you need me to do.”
“Maybe not right now,” he replied. “Come again tomorrow, 10am. I'll get you started then”
“Thank you so much!” I said, and left the restaurant.
As the cold air whisped around me, I pulled my jacket tight as the song “Thirty Three” began to play on my Walkman. It's so strange still hearing that song on the radio now, after all these years, I'm always taken back to that very moment in time whenever I hear Billy Corgan sing, “So I pull my collar up and face the cold...on my own.”
I decided to walk around down town for a bit, and then, to escape the numbing of the cold I entered the Civic Center. I felt at peace in the quiet upscale shopping center. There was a small figurine shop, and I went inside and looked at the shelves lined with tiny porcelain dolls, fairies, and crystal animals. The fairies made me sad to look at because they were one of Tracey's favourite things...And the crystal animals made me think of the ones we had on our bookshelves back home in Arlington, Texas. I was suddenly hit by a wave of loneliness and depression.
I walked out of the store and found the food court. There was a bunch of small fast food counters, and I noticed that one of them had a sign that said, “A&W Hotdogs.” I was puzzled...I didn't know the root beer drink had a fast food place and sold hot dogs. “Man...Kentucky gets stranger and stranger.” I muttered to myself, and because I was actually hungry, I decided to give it a try.
I ordered a mug of root beer and their “famous” hotdog, loaded down with fixings, and sat at a table. Picking up the hot dog, the fixings spilled onto the paper plate as I took a bite...Surprisingly good! It picked my spirits up a little bit and I nursed the ice cold root beer in solitude. This is my life, I thought...Alone, trapped in Kentucky, and I've got no sense of direction. Well, it can only go up from here. “Cheers!” I said to myself, and took another sip of root beer. When I was finished I picked up my garbage, returned the mug, and left the Civic Center.
I decided to walk down Versailles Road, but stayed clear of the K's place...I remember seeing a small medical center across the street from a gas station near the K's apartment, and I vaguely remember reading a sign about donating or selling plasma, and I wanted to check it out. Hell, I'd sell my plasma and get a few bucks in my pocket!
When I reached the medical center, I read the sign on the front. They did indeed buy plasma, but their payment plan was strange - $35 for the first time, $15 for the second time, then up to a steady $25 for several weeks, and you could give twice a week as long as there was 72 hours in between “donations.” After a couple of months they would give you a bonus of $75. Now, I was no medical expert, but hearing my parents talk enough about medical insurance, and the sky rocketing of health costs, I was fairly certain the medical company was making hundreds of dollars selling people's plasma to hospitals with every donation made...but in my time of need, I couldn't afford to be picky and decided to go in and find out more.
When I entered the clinic there were several stations of pre-screening to go through before you began giving your plasma. I went up to the sign-in desk and the clerk asked me if I was old or new, and I said, “New.” She handed me a clipboard with paperwork and told me to fill it all out and then they'd go from there.
I took the clipboard over to a chair and sat down filling it out. Questions about my medical history, drug use, needle use, homosexuality, and other questions littered the paperwork. I filled everything out and handed the clipboard to the clerk who said, “We'll call you when we're ready, and you'll have a check up.”
I sat back down and waited. After about 20 minutes, my name was called and I was told to go to one of the stations. My blood pressure was checked, and it was a little high, but okay for me to give plasma. Then, my finger was pricked and a little blood was drawn up in a small tube and dropped into a liquid. “This is to check your iron levels, and make sure they're okay,” I was told. I nodded to show I understood.
After that, the nurse went over my medical history and then I was ushered to a larger section of the clinic with a series of chairs with strange machines hooked up to them. I sat down and waited as another nurse came up to me. “First time?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Have you ever given blood?”
“No...I tried in '94 but I had high blood pressure.” I replied.
“Well, what I'm going to do is stick this needle in your arm. The machine is going to pull your blood out and cycle it through this machine. The blood will then return to your body with a saline solution...It'll feel a bit cold, but that is natural. Once this bottle -” she pointed to a large clear bottle - “fills up with your white blood cells, your actual plasma, the machine will beep, and I'll come back over and unhook you. You'll be good to go and can claim your check at the front on your way out.”
When she was done talking, she swabbed the large vein in the crook of my arm and stuck a giant needle into it! She taped the needle and clear tube down to hold it in place, and told me to pump my hand open and closed, and told me to try not to fall asleep. The machine came to life and I watched as the blood ran up the tube and into the machine.
I remember a couple of televisions hanging from brackets on the ceiling and there was a re-run of “Dukes of Hazzard” playing. Now, when I was a little kid I loved that show, but watching it now at 18 years old, I found it incredibly boring and blatantly racist, with its proud waving of the Confederate flag, and car they called “The General Lee.” I was starting to doze off when the nurse came back over to me and rubbed my shoulders, “Hey, you need to stay awake!”
“I'm sorry. I just remember this show and being so excited about it as a kid, and it's horrible watching it now!” I said.
“Yeah, well, the boss loves it so...try to stay awake.”
It was kind of cool watching the blood travel through the machine and the bottle fill up with my white blood cells, so I focused on that. Once the bottle was filled completely, the machine beeped and another nurse came over to me, pulled the needle out, and put a bandage on my arm.
“You'll get your check as you leave,” she said.
“Where can I get it cashed?” I asked.
“Well, there's a gas station across the street and they'll cash it for you for just a couple of bucks. Have a nice day!”
“Thanks!” I said, and exited the medical center.
I walked across the street to a small gas station and asked the attendant if they cashed cheques. He said they did and told me to sign the back and then handed me the cash, a few dollars short of the total. I was a bit thirsty and decided to buy something to drink. A soda I had never seen before caught my eye...It was in a bottle, and was bright yellow, almost like Mountain Dew. It was labelled ALE8ONE and below that it said, “A late one!” I paid for the drink, twisted off the cap and took a sip. I was hooked immediately! I noticed on the bottle that it had a 10cents return deposit, and was made in Kentucky.
Walking back down the road the led me down town, I finished the drink and tucked the bottle back into my coat. I'd be damned if I didn't get get that 10cents return! I headed back to Emma's place and went and knocked on the door. When she let me in and we went back to her room, I told her I found a job.
“Where at?” She asked.
“Steak Fest down town...It's only a couple of blocks away and I start tomorrow!” I said, excitedly. I also told her about giving plasma for the time and offered to order pizza again for us.
“Well...” She said, as if hesitating to tell me some bad news.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“My dad is only giving you a couple more days to stay here. Then you're going to have to leave.”
“ A couple of days? Seriously? I said, incredulously.” Emma, I've got a job. I can pay rent and y'all do have that extra room. Will you talk to him and maybe just let me stay until I've got enough money saved up for my own place? Please? I've got nowhere to go!”
She said she'd talk to him and then I ordered pizza and we watched TV.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I woke up the next day, excited about my new job. I took a bath as Emma's place didn't have a shower, and then I got dressed. I put on some decent clothing and went into the kitchen to eat some pop tarts that were left out on the table. I told Emma I was going to head out and she wished me luck.
I walked to the Steak Fest restaurant and they were barely opening when the owner let me in. “You came a bit early!” He said, surprised.
“Yeah...I want to get to it.”
He had me sign some papers and told me that I'd be working a minimum wage at full time hours, but once I started to make deliveries, he'd allow me to keep the tips. He showed me the back of the place where they prepared the food. There was a large machine with two huge stones on it and a shoot, or slide, of some sort. I looked at it puzzled, and he said, “You drop the potatoes in, and they move through the stones and the skins are ground off.” I nodded my head to let him know I understood.
He showed me a large metallic sink where they washed the vegetables, and other contraptions that cut the vegetables and potatoes. Then we walked to the large steel freezer that contained meats and vegetables – each container was labelled, and there were boxes of various meats as well.
“Can you cook? Have you ever used a grill?” he asked.
“No, not really, but I've watched my dad.” I replied.
“Well, you will learn. I want to get you on the grill as quickly as possible. You will learn the menu in full. We will show you.”
He went over the entire menu with me...Most meals were combos – a sandwich of some sort, or a gyro and deep fried potatoes. “We don't call them French fries here!” He said. There was also fried jalapeño poppers, cheese sticks, and lots of other items. The combo came with a drink as well. It all seemed quite simple to remember. “The most popular items are the steak philly and cheese sandwiches and the lamb gyros!” He told me.
Before the store opened he told me to go to the freezer and grab some chopped up steak. I grabbed a box and brought it to the grills. In front of the grill were silver pans of green bell peppers, some other peppers, shredded cheeses, a dish with butter, and a pan loaded with buns.
“This is going to be your lunch so how well you do is how good your meal is! When the lunch rush hits, you want to be quick!” He clapped his hands together several times as he said this. I watched his face take on the serious look of a master artist teaching an apprentice, as he said, “Now! Grab the buns, butter them quickly, and put them face down on the grill! Quickly! Grab some of the steak meat, and the bell peppers, and throw them (clap clap) onto the grill! Grab that thing that looks like a cement spread and chop up the meat and peppers. Let them both turn golden brown, and when they do that, grab a big pinch of Swiss cheese.”
I did exactly as instructed, but I obviously wasn't moving fast enough because the buns on the grill were starting to burn. “Quickly! Now scrape it all up and grab the buns, spread it across them and put the sandwich together!” He then showed me how to wrap up the sandwich and put it on a paper plate. “Put that to the side. Now I show you how to use the fryer!”
He asked me what I wanted to try, and I told him the jalapeño poppers sounded good. He instructed me to get a handful of jalapeño peppers, already breaded, and stuffed with cheese. “Do not tell anyone, but these are pre-made!” He dropped them into a frying basket and turned a timer, then lowered the basket into the vegetable oil. “Normally, you would do this before you made the other food, and when the timer goes off, your sandwich should be made.”
The timer beeped and he pulled the poppers out of the oil and placed them on a paper towel. Then he wrapped them and told me to put them with my sandwich.
“You will learn much more over the next few days. For now, you clean tables, mop the floor and watch! Watch everything we do.”
“Yes sir.” I said.
He wasn't lying about the lunch rush – it was insane! College kids, police officers, and business people poured into the tiny restaurant. Not even SUBWAY had a rush like this during the summertime! As each patron ate and finished, I would quickly wipe the tables down and clean up any mess. A little before one in the afternoon though, the crowd died down and my boss said I could reheat my lunch that I made earlier and have something to drink. I settled on a lemon iced tea and sat at a table to eat. A man and woman entered the shop and I looked at the boss, and he told me to enjoy my lunch, which I did. Yeah, it was a little over cooked, but a damn good Philly steak and cheese sandwich! I was proud of myself.
I realised that the man and woman who had just entered the restaurant were the same two people who processed me when I was arrested. They noticed me and the counsellor said, “Hey! What are you doing here?”
“I work here now. School kicked me out.”
“Yeah, I didn't want to tell you that, but I already knew. I'm sorry.”
“It's okay. I'll figure something out.”
The guy asked me what I was doing when I got off work, and I said, “Probably headed back to my friend's place. Why?”
Well, how about I take you out to get something to eat?”
“You don't have to do that.” I replied.
“Nah. It'll be on me.”
I looked at the woman and she didn't say anything, so I said, “Sure. Okay.”
“Alright. I'll pick you up after work.”
“Cool. Well, speaking of work...I better get back to it. Enjoy your food – it's pretty good here!”
I think it was around 3 or 4 in the afternoon when I finished work, and true to his word, the guy swung by the place. He drove a pretty nice car and told me to hop in.
“Where do you want to eat?”
“Anywhere is fine.” I said.
“Well, how about a change of plan? I could get us something to drink, and we can hang out and watch TV at a motel for a while, and catch up on things?”
Now, I had never been in such a situation, and I was a bit naïve at the time. Instead of feeling like anything was odd, and because of his job working in the Justice system, I assumed he was straight-laced, and above board. My guard was down and I interpreted the situation as nothing more than a kind gesture. I wasn't sure what he meant by “drinks” though...
“Do you mean sodas or something else, 'cause you know I'm underage?”
A couple of beers won't hurt you. I'm just fascinated by your story, and want to get to know you a bit better.”
“Okay...Is it cool if I drink ZIMA? I really don't like the taste of beer.”
“Sure!”
We drove to a small liquor store and he ran in and brought a bag back out. Then he drove to a small motel off Winchester Road, next door to a Kentucky Fried Chicken place...
“Here,” he said, handing me a $20 bill. “Go in and grab us something to eat.”
I ran inside as he got a motel room, and once I had my order I ran over to the motel and he was standing outside of the room waiting for me. We went inside and I put the food down on the bed as he handed me a ZIMA, with the cap already taken off. At first the conversation was topical...
“What kind of music do you like?”
“Alternative Rock. The Cure, Smashing Pumpkins, things like that.”
“Ever heard of the band, Rush?”
“Yeah...Not really music I'm into.”
“They're phenomenal! They'll be in town soon and I already have tickets.”.
“Cool,” I said. “Hey, do you mind if I call my friend and let her know I'll be a bit late home so she doesn't worry about me?”
“Sure. That's fine, but I thought you might want to crash here for the night. It's already paid for. It'll give you a break, and you can clear your head.”
“Oh. Yeah, that's cool. 'Preciate it!”
I called Emma up and told her. “You don't think that sounds a bit odd?” She asked. “You don't even know the dude.”
“Yeah, I'll be fine!”
I began to drink a bit and had a light buzz. Soon, the conversation turned on hypnosis which I thought was a little odd. “No, it's real. I can try it on you if you'd like.” He said.
Suddenly, it dawned on me what was happening! My head cleared, and I said..
“Hey, just so we're clear, I'm straight, man...”
“Oh...well, that's fine! Just enjoy yourself.”
After that, he quickly left. But I felt really uncomfortable about what just happened, and I wondered what he would've tried had I been completely drunk.
The next morning, I woke up, took a shower and put on the same clothes...I needed to get back down town and to my second day of work.