I have to tell this story on one of our blog contributors because of the little exchange between he, Larry and Sweet over in “Third Week Pickin.”
We must have been about thirteen years old. Sweet, Zeek, Baen, Greeg, Waldo, and RJ, along with Mamoo and Mary B. and maybe a few more had been to the Dome to see the Saints play somebody. I’m not sure if that was the Dolphins game or not, but if it was, there’s another story from this trip that I’ll tell some time. Anyway, Zeek may have to help out on the details, but he got in to an argument with RJ and it spilled over to Waldo. We kids were not yet hip to the intricate manouvers one needs when sober and debating someone of the overserved persuasion.
I guess Zeek didn’t want to stop and eat, at least not at Baricev’s. So just before we arrived Waldo and RJ ganged up on the kid and said if he was a man he’d stick by his opposition to stopping and he’d sit outside in the car while we all went in to eat. Zeek manned up. The rest of us poured in to Baricev’s (God rest its soul) with nary a glance behind. Mary B and Mamoo pulled up in the second vehicle and were naturally curious about why Zeek was sitting in the car. At that point all hell broke loose between the women and the men. Sweet and I just attacked our plates and stayed out of the fray, looking up only to notice the women had prevailed. Waldo and RJ had to grant Zeke permission to come in and eat with his manhood intact, though to have seen Zeek’s face as he slunk through the door one would not have been so sure.
1983, or thereabouts. It was a good year. And at least some small part of the above happened exactly as I recall it, I’m sure. It was a defining event in the shaping of the code that governs my asshole runnin buddies from Pascagoula. The exchange on the other post is a fine example of that code in action.
TB, you recall the event correctly. I will never forget that evening, for it is one of the few times in my life when I actually showed some self control over food. Believe me, I was hungry, but more than anything, I was pissed. If I recall correctly, I think it all started because I had made fun of Sweet about something and RJ and Wally tag-teamed me seeing that the poor little delicate flower was in way over his head.(Many of you may remember what a real sissy Sweet was (is) during adolescence.) This further angered me, feeling ganged up on by two drunk adult turds who were coming to a wimp’s rescue. I had no choice but to stick by my guns and I would have stayed in that car till Hell froze over but I was scared of my Mom and Mamu. I didn’t enjoy the food,though.
Growing up, Mamoo and Mary B were two of the coolest mom’s out there, and Waldo and RJ were, well, Waldo and RJ—-absolutely unique and both of whom had a good deal of influence over how about 30 of us guys from Goula behave, or not behave as the case may be.
Sweet being a little bitch – Noway!
This is one of the best stories I don’t remember hearing ever! How I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall of that car and the restaurant. The other thoughts I have on this scenario I shall keep to myself……..