#45 VERMONT ADVENTURES/ THE BUMP
Weekend #1
I was getting used to the good life after being laid off from my job as a machine operator, and now I was trying to establish myself as an artist. I lived in a three-story house that I was managing for a friend. It was a typical old New Bedford farmhouse with a very nice backyard. It was located on a small city block and had a large lot of land adjacent to it that allowed the sunlight to shine on it with great intensity. When I moved in the house was totally empty and primarily my job was to baby-sit he house and rent out the other two floors if possible. The way the house was situated on the street, it didn’t require many curtains, which allowed me to take full advantage of the sunlight all day long. The second floor had two bedrooms, a large kitchen, living room and bath. The first floor was about the same as the second. The third floor was a quaint little attic apartment that offered plenty of space for a couple of people to share.
The trap door on the floor made it virtually impossible for anyone to enter this attic studio space.
The design painted on the ceiling and walls were obviously inspired by the Space Program.
The place was a hippie
house of sorts, plain and simple, scantly appointed with furniture of any type.
There was a day couch in the living room with a throw rug in the middle of the
floor, and the kitchen had the usual table and a few chairs. The bed was just a
mattress, thrown onto the floor and covered with layers of spreads and quilts
of various denominations. The second bedroom had been conveniently converted
into a studio with a huge easel constructed with 2X4-inch lumber and a full
sheet of plywood. It could easily be dismantled to create a totally open space
for any arbitrary need that may arise. There was plenty of closet space to hold
clothes and additional junk that I had. I was very efficient and traveled
light, because I wasn’t sure how much longer I would be in New Bedford.
I lived in the house for
a few months before I found someone to rent the third floor. She was a cool
babe who worked everyday, was single and had no kids. She was the perfect
tenant for me, and she had no problem paying the rent. She was quiet and I
hardly ever saw her. She knew I was strange because I was gone most of the
time, but when I was there she knew it, because she could probably hear my
music playing, or the sounds of my spontaneous guest being entertained. I was
still hanging out with some of the crowd from S.M.U. mostly friends from my art
classes, and then there was everybody else. My tenant probably thought I was a
dog, because most of my guest were women, but that’s the way is when you’re
single and living in a hippie house, black-lights, dope plants growing on the
back porch and no furniture.
I was still freelancing
with different bands and was in no hurry to commit to another band, but we were
all still friends and stayed in touch and supported each other in our
individual musical endeavors. Richard would eventually move in to the first
floor apartment, which turned out to be a big help for both of us, since I was
away much of the time. We were the best of friends ever since we met in the
city. I always appreciated how he and his family accepted me as part of his
family and we’ve always had a deep respect for one another. We have our
independent ways but we still manage to help each other as much as possible. He
had hooked up with another group of local musicians when he moved into the
apartment below me. They were experimenting with a new style at the time. I
think it was called “Fusion”, some of that Weather Report shit, that was played
to fast for most popular audiences. It was too far out for me. Most people were
just getting use to Wilson Pickett, never mind that fast crap. I was opposed to
playing and promoting that type of music, because the clubs and the audiences
were not really ready for it, and I didn’t think any of the booking agents were
ready for it either.
I really didn’t care
what this new group wanted to play; they were still my friends. I had plenty of
other things to do and I enjoyed sitting back watching them strain their brains
out trying to run off a string of diminished fifths that no one in any audience
would have understood. Eventually they got a gig playing at a club in Bellows
Falls, Vermont. I didn’t think they were ready to play out, but the gig was in
Bellows Falls, so there was no risk of them being embarrassed in front of their
friends. Ironically they invited me to come along for inspirational support. I
had no problem with that because I wasn’t playing in the band, so if something
went wrong I would have a chance to get the hell out of there.
We packed the vehicles, and headed north to parts unknown. It really wasn’t that much of a trip with the town being just off Interstate 91, and sixty miles north of the Mass. Border. We arrived in the sleepy hollow looking town, nestled at foot of the Green Mountains, and just shy of the New Hampshire border. It was getting dark when we arrived and that the little town a scary little appearance of uncertainty that haunted us all. The band was mixed races, but we still had the feeling that some one would come running out of the bar yelling “niggers”. Onset marijuana smoking probably brought on most of that paranoia. In fact, when we went in to check out the place, we were greeted by some of the regulars who probably made a habit of meeting the bands when they would arrive for the first time. Obviously they had never heard of us and were curious as to what kind of music we would be playing. When they started asking, a lump formed in my throat and I just faded in the background. I left that up to the other guys to answer. I was pretty sure they didn’t want t hear any of that fast shit. Half of these boys were still walking around in their cowboy boots.
I helped the guys unload the equipment from the van and into the club. We were giggling at the name of the club, Meatland, but we were careful not to be too obvious about what we were laughing at. The place was a typical little Vermont bar, rustic in it’s appearance and decorated with local paraphernalia, like moose heads and commercial beer signs. There was a decent stage large enough to hold the whole band and just one step up from the floor. The dance floor was directly in front of the stage, which gave clear indication that dancing tunes would definitely be expected of the band. I was concerned, but not worried, because I knew that the band could play all types of music if they wanted to do that. The locals were really very friendly to us and they even helped us the setup the equipment. They were also making request for certain songs and asking us if we knew this song or that song. To me this was a clear indication as to what type of music they wanted to hear, but I was getting the feeling that the band members with their fogged –up brains was still thinking about playing a lot of that fast shit.
A life sized mural was painted
on the living room wall.
People were arriving
promptly at nine, just as the band started playing. The trend was for band to
start off with something jazzy or cool music just to warm things up a bit. This
was a good time to run off some of that fast music that you couldn’t dance to
anyway, and they did. I was glad they played that stuff early, because they
would find out later that the crazy music wouldn’t have worked. The placed was
nearly packed by the end of the first set and people were on the dance floor
all the time. The guys were a little disappointed that they couldn’t play the
tunes that they had spent so much time rehearsing, but they were smart enough
to realize that they would have to change the repertoire. At that time the
“bump was the hottest dance. I had been doing the bump for a few months before
I arrived in “Meatland”, and I was ready to get out on the floor and show my
stuff.
The “bump was a dance that had movements similar
to the basic hula-hoop moves, except the swinging hips would touch against your
dance partner’s hip or butt or any other body part that would be contacted on
the beat of the music. Dancers could touch each other on the beat with the
arms, legs, thighs, back, etc., as long as it was done in time with the music.
It was a very sociable and sexy dance, where strangers were allowed to
literally feel-up each other while on the dance floor. Virtually no body part
went un-touch during the course of a dance. The dance was sweeping the country
and apparently I was the first person to do the dance in the club. There were a
lot of women in the club and they were very friendly toward the band. I was
there as a helper with the band, but I received all the same perks and more,
because I was able to dance with all those lovely girls. Once I showed one of
girls how it was done, the Bump suddenly became the rage of the night the
un-expecting clubbers never knew how bruised they would be the next morning.
This was a brutal dance and one would have to learn to be careful not to crash
into their dance partner too hard. But when you’ve had a few drinks and the
music is jamming, one may not be aware of the pains created by the dance. The band
was playing tunes like "Mercy Mercy Me
I was in ‘hog heaven’ with all those women
sitting at my table and as usual there were plenty of drinks too keep action
going. Now that the club was packed and everybody was ‘Bumping” away, it was
time for me to start focusing on one of these ladies that had totally
surrounded me. I really couldn’t make up mine which one I liked the best. I
wasn’t sure that it made a lot of difference anyway. Still there were two that
stood out from the rest and showed a considerable amount of interest. I would
later find out that the one who was most friendly was also a very popular chick
around town. Dina was one of those classy babes with a very out-going
personality. She had long, straight brown hair and reminded me of the town
debutante. She was the one that was running the show, with her little clique of
six or seven girls. There was some kind of hierarchy going on amongst this crew
that surrounded me, and Dina was the leader of the pack. She wasn’t afraid to
introduce me to the various guys and girls as they came into the club and
drifted their way over to our table. Everybody knew her and vise-versa, and I
liked that, because I knew this babe was respected and that gave me a great
sense of security.
Dina was crafty and
manipulating and most often got what she wanted with her upper class charm. She
made her place at the table beside me with her unsuspecting friend, Marie
sitting on my opposite side. When Tammy showed up a place at the table was made
for her too. Little did I know what role these ladies would play in my life, at
that moment, but Dina would later help to define any unknown mysteries. While
we were enjoying ourselves, Dina was figuring a way to get me to stay
overnight in the sleepy little town. By the end of the night she had it all
worked out, and she wanted to know if I wanted to stay over her house, then she
went to call her parents to let them know that she would be staying out with
Tammy and Marie. How could I refuse an invitation like that? “Yeah, sure.” I said.
What did I care? I was just a weekend vagabond with no place particular to be.
I was working a steady job, as a machine operator, but this was my day off, my
rent was paid and I didn’t have to be at work until Sunday night.
The band was packing up
their gear and some of the guys were returning to New Bedford. . It was a
successful night and everybody enjoyed the band. A couple of guys took up
residence at the local hotel, where rooms were provided for those who wanted to
stay overnight. The crowd was crawling over the remaining band members as I
slid out the door with a few of the girls that had been keeping my company all
night. Here I was in the back woods of Vermont in a black VW bus, jacked-up in
the back with "Mag" rims and orange curtains. I had a ten- inch
Squadron Sticker; saved from my Air Force days that was pasted on the rear
window. The sticker was usually stuck onto the side of a jet plane to identify
your military group. The sticker had the words,” Anytime Baby” written on it.
Motorist often beeped gave me a big smile and a wave, as they would pass me on
the highway.
When the girls saw my van, they really liked it.
We all jumped in with Dina taking the front seat of course and Marie and Tammy
hoped in the rear. The van had a 300-watt stereo tape deck with two 15-inch
speakers and a couple of tweeters to balance the sound. There was a full-sized
mattress covered with a plush red velvet cloth. I had removed the middle seat and built in a storage box that
doubled as a seat. The box also served as a survival kit and storage for extra
clothes. The girls loved the van and made they felt right at home by twisting
up a fatty as we drove north toward Tammy’s house. We dropped Tammy at her house
and started back toward Bellows Falls and closer to where Dina lived.
We were fairly smashed
as I cruised through the curvy back roads of Vermont. The music coming out of
my tape was intoxicating and we were enjoying it so much, we didn’t want to go
home. Dina pointed to an obscure little dirt road that seemed to lead to
nowhere. There was no moonlight to help see the road. All we had was the lights on the VW bus to guide us down what
seemed like the road to the end of the earth. Eventually we would cross a
little wooden bridge, which gave me a sense that we were still on earth. The
bus was totally engulfed in blackness, and the red over-head light gave us the
feeling that we were in some kind of a space ship. Only Dina had been down
this road before and she was confident she knew where we were going. Marie had
drawn nearer to us. She placed herself between Dina and me, making it easier
to pass the joint around. It appeared that we had run out of road and all that
lay ahead was a field with tall grass. I stopped the van and shut down the
engine. Here I was in the middle of nowhere with two girls I had just met hours
ago with no idea what was going to happen next. The little red light was
glowing and my favorite mixed tape was playing as we rolled our last joint of
the evening. It was from my stash of Acapulco Gold. It was a very mellow, but
devastating weed that we decided to smoke in the rear of the van on the very
comfortable mattress. The three us were really enjoying each other’s company
and we must have pass out simultaneously, because the next thing we knew it was
daylight when we came to. We were suffering from a severe dope-over when we
looked out the window to find that we had parked on the edge of a field not far
form interstate 91.
I started the bus and
headed for the hotel, where we cleaned up and had some breakfast. I couldn’t
believe the hospitality that I was receiving and I still hadn’t been in town
for twenty-four hours yet. I was convinced that if you were a friend of Dina’s
then you were over in this town. I thought these babes were wild. We had a
hotel room where we could have stayed, yet the tree of us spent the night
sleeping in the van in the middle of the woods. These babes had no shame and no
problem as we took turns in the shower and sharing the hotel room to get
cleaned up. Dina called home to tell her parents that she would be bringing me
over to meet them. They had no problem with that and they were excited to see a
“big time musician” coming to visit. They didn’t know that I wasn’t a big time
musician with the band. Instead I was just bumming along with my friends in the
band, but that really didn’t matter, it was all in fun. We left the hotel,
dropped Marie at her house, then to Dina’s house, where I met her parents, who
welcomed me with open arms. When I was driving Dina home, I began to realize
where this babe was coming from, especially when I made one of the last turns
toward her house. I found myself driving up a series of hills that would
eventually end at her house. She lived in the house that was at the very top of
the hill, over-looking all of the houses in her area. It was a four- bedroom
ranch with a pool in the backyard set on a three-acre lot. My kind of place
indeed, I thought. I was stunned by the view from this magnificent property.
Now I knew why everybody in town knew who she was. We had dinner and got dress
to go back to Meatland for another night of craziness. It was Saturday night, the
last night for the band. They would be packing up all their gear tonight for a
return trip to New Bedford, and I would be spending another night in Vermont.
This time I would be sleeping in a bed at Dina’s house. I stayed over until
Sunday evening and I left at just the right time that would allow me get back
and grab some sleep before I had to go to work at twelve that night.