The 60’s: Chapter 8
December 31st, 1967
1968 was to be a Leap Year.
My buddies and I decided to have a blowout New Year’s Eve party.
Some of us were semi-squatting in the now defunct, Felton Train Station House. It had been abandoned years before but they forgot to turn off the water and voila, a major crash pad.
The Train Station was so great! There were a few tiny office rooms and storage cubby’s that were great for making perfect tiny bedrooms. There was a primitive kitchen set-up, one bathroom and a garden hose in the backyard for long, cold showers, if that was your deal.
I had a boyfriend up there and we’d make love all night and sploosh off the evidence in that cold, cold water, laughing and giggling while chasing each other around the freezing outdoors, stark naked.
I had a different living situation near town, so we spent time there, mostly to have a nice, hot shower.
As the great evening approached, we collected every Indian bedspread in the county and dredged up every candle we could find. A Sheik would have been nothing but proud of the exotic scene we had created.
We put candles on every surface we could find that would not end up in a fire drill. We pooled our pennies and got food, beer and wine. Wine, by the way, that would rot the teeth out of your mouth and make your entrails bleed.
We found old dishes at the Goodwill for ten cents a piece and those thrown in with paper plates and jelly glasses…oh baby, we were stylin!”
We spent an entire day creating, The Scene.
All I needed to do was to find the perfect party getup.
I went through all my rags, tatters, bangles and beads. Finally I threw up my hands. My dearth of party wear was alarming!
Suddenly the answer came to me,“ Back to Goodwill!”
I picked through every single outfit that Goodwill had to offer.
Nothing, nada, zip, and then my eyes drifted over to a bunch of wedding gowns and I thought “ What the fuck, why not!”
I found this gown that is hard to describe. It was a creamy taffeta thingie that had lacy hip flounces and a short but tasteful train. Hot shit and zippity doo dah, I was good to go.
That outfit, with my little pink bald head was, tits man, I mean, really tits! As I was going to the register, I plucked up a silver and gold plastic crown! The finishing sartorial flourish.
That evening I hitched to the train station in my wedding garb and queens crown. For sure I was going to be the Belle of Ball at this epic gathering!
By the time I got there, the place was rockin! When I went through the doors, there were so many candles everywhere that the room was simply dazzling!
My honey hailed me over and I literally twirled over to him and fell in his arms. We went ass over tea kettle onto the floor, hooting and hollering like loons. A very auspicious way to start an evening.
People were drinking their asses off, while smoking about two tons of pot and hash. People had brought their instruments and we all started wailing a Jefferson airplane song.
We were all laughing and talking as we fell hopelessly, into complete hilarity. I got to laughing so hard I peed my panties, had to take them off and spent the rest of the evening going commando.
There was this little three legged milking stool, I went and straddled it in my creamy flounces and frills. Suddenly I fell back and that goddamn wedding dress went straight over my head which of course revealed my furry red pussy, I had not shaved that off.
There I was, the wedding dress thrown completely over my head with my Victoria’s secret peeping out for all to see!
So much for secrets.
Remembering that party now, I believe I have rarely been to a better one.
One of the gals got so drunk she was just crying laughing. Then she was just crying. She had found out that afternoon that her twin brother had been killed in some little country called Vietnam.
Chapter 9: The Fillmore