This never happened

This never happened. 

We made a pact. No one would talk about it. 

This never happened. 

But, for the sake of argument, and to perhaps tell a tale, if such a thing did happen, I confess I am not sure if I could say exactly how such a thing might have started. 

And, I can't say specific dates, other than it was probably sometime around 30 years ago?

But at that time, it probably started like it usually did...

Drinking beer at my friend Pete’s house.

This was before cell phones, so how the hell we all found each other on a Saturday night, was luck, and usually a combination of calling around to see who was where, or knowing that so and so might be at this bar, or so and so is having a party, or any other number of pre-arranged clues. But this night, after making some calls, and weighing some options, we left Pete’s house and went to a bar called “Vesuvio”  A bar in San Francisco’s North Beach area that had been there since the fourty’s. A tiny cramped place that had been the home of the beat poets.

So...

I should also explain. Back then I was what some ( including myself) would have called a "scooter boy" We rode Vespas and lambrettas, belonged to clubs, had events. 

 It was a "thing". 

But, back to it being before cell phones, what that also meant was that if you saw a scooter, or scooters, parked outside of some establishment, more than likely, you had friends inside, weather old or about to be...

And so it was this night. 

I don't remember why, but like I said we had gone to Vesuvios. We were drinking beer, and the occasional shot of Ouzo, because, well, I deemed it necessary. After a while, other friends showed up. We had a few more beers, and then they said knew of a house party not far away, so we headed there. 

We hung out there for a bit, but as it was getting close to midnight, and we knew liquor sales cut off time was eminent, we began making plans. 

Maybe this is where the madness began.

Fun Fact: So, in 1989 there was a pretty big earthquake. It was centered in the Santa Cruz Mountains, but it caused destruction all through the bay area. One of the many casualties of this earthquake was the Embarcadero freeway. Several miles of elevated concrete running from one side of San Francisco to the other, the idea being to connect the golden gate bridge with the bay bridge. It has it's own story. People loved it, people hated it, people loved to hate it. Like I said, it had its own story.

But after the earthquake, it was condemned. 

However, it was several years before it was actually torn down.

 I guess this is where the madness truly began.

There were five of us, if memory serves. 

We left the dwindling party, went to a liquor store and bought several cases of beer. We strapped them on the backs of our Scooters, and then lingered outside on the curb, trying to decide where to consume said beer. 

Sure, sitting on a comfy couch and pounding beer after beer had a certain attraction, but it was typical. We did it at home, we did it at parties, and we had just been doing that very activity. 

Now, I can’t say for sure that stimulants were involved, but, they usually were, and the thought of couching it seemed to hold little interest. We wanted adventure. We were feeling mischievous. We needed something to sooth or jittering souls. 

We considered many destinations, and eventually I mentioned the abandoned Embarcadero freeway.

 

Several lanes of empty elevated concrete, spanning several miles far above and along the San Francisco waterfront. "Yeah, but how?" it was a good question, but lucky for me, I already knew.

"Follow me"

Now, I don't remember who originally told me, but I happened to know that all the "on" ramps to said abandoned freeway were not accessible. Barricaded and fenced. But for some reason, the off ramps were only barricaded. But on a scooter, if one was foolish enough to drive the wrong way down a one-way street, and up the off ramp, you could fairly easily get around the barricades. 

From there, the freeway was yours, and that particular night (or technically morning) it was.

It was a surreal thing. We rode up and onto the freeway, at first staying in the appropriate lanes. The first time we stopped, we pulled off the shoulder, parking our scooters as though traffic might need to get by. We started in on the beers. After a couple beers it hit me. I went and got on my scooter and rode it out aways, then came back at full thottle, screeching to a stop in the middle of the freeway, parked it, and walked back over to continue drinking. At first the group seemed confused. But then realized, at this moment, we owned this entire freeway. 

Pretty soon we were racing along in the wrong lanes, setting up obstacle course with bottles, and just generally enjoying the fact that at that moment, there were no rules. Just us, our scooters, miles of empty freeway, and a lot of beer.

We eventually settled down on the side of the freeway to drink and just talk. 

Just bullshit about life and what not. Trading stories, boasting about our sexual exploits, the typical things a bunch of drinking guys will talk about.

Maybe this is where the madness truly began.

I finished a beer, let out a loud belch, and then, rather than put the empty back in the box, I tossed it up over my shoulder. It went up over the guardrail, and disappeared into the darkness. There was enough time for my compatriots to give me a look of disbelief before we heard it shatter somewhere below.

"Ha! Holy shit!" someone said, but soon others followed suit.

It was a random act, but apparently, it wasn't enough to soothe desire of some to create mischief.  Someone in the group decided to see if they could make the shot into the pool of a hotel that was basically some 25+ yards out, and maybe 50 feet below us. They took a run up to the guardrail and launched the bottle as we all held our breath. It sailed through the night sky and eventually splashed down in the pool. We let out a collective whoop, there were some high fives, and "oh yeah"s... 

Now the exact sequence of events over the next several minutes is a bit fuzzy, but it probably went something like this:

I said, "I can do that" I finished the beer I was drinking, took a few steps back, ran up to the guardrail and launched my bottle. It sailed end over end through the darkness, getting smaller and smaller, I lost sight of it until it splashed in the pool. I did a little arms up victory dance, and cracked another beer. 

Another member of the group followed suit. 

Sort of.

The reason I say “sort of”, is that many didn't make it. 

It seemed like it happened in slow motion. Their bottle went of into the darkness until it disappeared. But, then it landed several feet short of the water, and shattered on the pool deck. To my ears it was like a bomb. 

Someone, and it might have been me, said "Oh Fuck!"

We all ducked down and hid behind the guardrail motionless. 

But nothing happened.

Until another member of the group, who had yet to attempt the throw, decided to. This one also missed the mark. Another Bomb. They tried again, but same result. Another member of the group made one into the pool, but at this point, lights came on in the Hotel that had previously been dark.

There was yelling and commotion...

"We gotta get the fuck out of here" I said. 

A couple of the others seemed unconcerned. "No one knows we are up here,” someone said. 

Just then we heard sirens. 

"I am getting the fuck out of here" I grabbed what was left of one of the cases of beer, strapped it on the back of my scooter, and pushed off. I coasted a while then started up my scoot. I was probably a mile away when Pete caught up with me. We pulled off to the side of the freeway, hunkered down and cracked a beer.

 "What the fuck" I said, 

" I know" Pete said, "The other guys went back the way we came. I saw flashing lights down by the hotel, but…"

"Holy shit"

We finished our beers (stowed the bottles near the side of the road this time) and continued along. We went through another barrier, but really didn't know where we were.  Suddenly it became apparent that we were not where we were supposed to be. We were on the freeway, but going the wrong way. We were dodging cars like a game of asteroids. Eventually, we ended up exiting the freeway on an "on" ramp. 

Lucky for us it was about 5:00 am, and there were not that many other people on the road. We made our way onto surface streets, and eventually went back to Pete’s house.

We sat on the couch and opened a couple beers in the growing morning sun.

We clinked our bottles together.

"Holy Shit" I said.

"This never happened" Pete said.

I agreed...