Welcome to Three Word Wednesday.
Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. This is a writing exercise. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also attempt to write something using the same three words.
Leave a comment if you participate.
This week's words are:
It was not my first concert. But it was my first time to sneak out of the house. To this day, I have a great and terrible fear my mother is going to find out about that night.
Raging Whore Moans were playing at the Bama Breeze, and Craig Henderson claimed he could get us all fake ID's. Except we didn't know that by get, he meant make, with laminating sheets he bought at Eckerd.
According to my ID, I was twenty-two. We weren't planning on drinking, but you had to be twenty-one to get in. And I will never forget my fake name: Andy Griffin. I'm sure it would have been Griffith, except for the fact Craig always thought it was called the Andy Griffin Show.
There would be four of us going: Craig, myself, Kristi, and Jennifer. The girls pulled the old I'm-spending-the-night-at-her-house routine. But as I had not spent the night with any of my friends in over two years, I thought my Mom might think that a tad suspicious. And Craig, well I wasn't even sure he had parents.
The band was scheduled to start at 9:30, but I knew there was no way I'd be able to get out of the house until at least 10:00. Craig said that was OK as they would be playing until well after midnight.
My parents retired to their bedroom around 10:00. And my nervousness was suddenly replaced by a burst of confidence, as they rarely left their room once they were in for the night. Still, I waited half an hour, hoping Mom would be asleep, and then crept down the hall. The floor seemed to creak louder and louder with every step, and I was certain that at any second, the bedroom door was going to open. Finally, I made it to the carport door and was out.
Craig parked down the street in front of a house that was still being built, in his black Fiero. You may think it would be impossible to fit four teenagers into a Fiero. And you would be correct. But on that night, we defied the laws of mass and space. Fortunately, it was an automatic, as there was no way Craig could have shifted gears without risking injuring someone.
We literally rolled out of the car into the parking lot of the Bama Breeze, and nervousness sprang freely once again. What if my parents had already discovered I was gone? What if our fake ID's didn't work? What if we were arrested?
As we approached the door, I heard the bouncer say to the guy in front of us, "Ten dollar cover." I didn't even know what a cover charge was! Ten dollars? For each of us? I only had like twelve bucks to my name. If I had known this, I never would have agreed to Craig's crazy, half-baked plan in the first place.
I felt like a felon as the bouncer checked my ID. Maybe I was a felon? Fortunately, most bars were not too strict about who they let in. Thankfully, Kristi brought money and paid her own cover. I would have hated for her to miss the show.
That was nearly twenty years ago.
Saturday night, I went to see Raging Whore Moans again. The crowd was much sparser this time. And the band may have been more accurately dubbed Aging Whore Moans. But when they sang "Die, Sally, Die" I closed my eyes, and for a moment I was seventeen again. Or twenty-two.
"At the Bama Breeze, I turned twenty-one down there. Had too much fun down there. Stumbled out with the sun down there..."