Somehow, when I was a freshman in college in 1985, I landed a job as a cocktail waitress in a bar that featured live bands seven nights a week.
I have no idea why I was given this job.
I had no cocktail waitress experience and I was such a dork.
When I was newly on the job twenty four empty Budweiser bottles slipped off of my tray and onto the lap of a very pregnant woman.
[Oh, the HORROR!]
Later I "accidentally" accepted too many customer tips in the form of drinks and ended the night by loudly (and gutturally) singing Gregory Abbott ... "Guuuuurrrrllll I want to Shake You Down"... while being spun around on a bar stool until I fell off and appeared to be stone dead for a full minute.
With the entire bar staff peering over me I suddenly sprang up, lifted the bar-top gate, walked through and released it so that the gate fell and smashed the entire inventory of the bar's glassware.
Miraculously, I was not fired for these things.
My first night on the job I was trained by a fellow waitress named Laura.
At the end of the night she explained that I needed to collect and wash the ashtrays.
She found me later standing over the sink and asked how it was going.
"I found two joints in one of the ashtrays," I said. "What should I do with them?"
Laura looked at me as if I were a total moron.
She rolled her eyes, cocked a hip at me and said,
"You should SMOKE them."
Pulling her hip back in she reconsidered,
"Or, you know, you could turn them over to your supervisor."
I'm pretty sure I "lost one somewhere" and gave the other one to my supervisor (whose name, ahem, was Laura. )
[This is the point where I would usually deny any and all illicit activity for my Granny's sake, but since she is gone I will now deny any and all illicit activity directly to our current (and former) president(s) by swearing that "I NEVER INHALED."]
Laura and I became fast friends and remained close through all of my college years.
She was witness and party to much of my coming of age experimentation.
There was much hell raising... and that's all I'm going to admit.
Twenty some odd years later Laura and I find ourselves still connected.
She came to visit us last weekend with her son who is 10 months older than The Mayor.
Trying to keep up with his older guest, the Mayor sat perched at the top of a playground meant for much bigger kids.
From his teetering perch The Mayor noticed a group of high school students walking by.
"Hey!" he yelled at them.
"Hey!" they yelled back waiving.
Clearly hoping to keep their attention, The Mayor screamed,
"I'M SO HIGH!!!"
Laura and I exchanged glances and turned into Beevis and Butthead.
[Heh heh. Heh heh.]
The high school kids took The Mayor at his word and weren't even chuckling.
Dude, what is wrong with the youth today?