Chapter 1 Out of school and running amok!

In the summer of 1980, I successfully made it through a three day interview process at PPCo and was offered a job. I packed up my stuff at the university and made the drive to Oklahoma with visions of Henry Fonda and an old Model-T in my head. On the drive I rooted for the Phillies in the World Series, and they went on to victory over George Brett and Kansas City. The best house I was able to rent in a booming market was on Graystone behind the Quarters. My girlfriend had yet to pass the nursing boards so she went to work for Larry Lively at the Quarter's Club. Little did she know that the pudgy smiley faced club owner was a girl friend/wife abuser. It wasn't long before my girlfriend, (I'll call her future ex #1 or ex #1 for short) was filling in on shifts that Lively's girlfriend could not work due to black eyes and bruises. There was the occasional stop along Hwy 75 on odd nights coming back from Tulsa where he would beat her with his belt like some errant step child. Yet the bimbo married him anyway. Oh yeah the funniest time was when she hid from him in a closet and he nailed it closed. I can only imagine there were lively times at the Lively house. (sorry I could not help it). Since my better half was usually occupied till 3 am, I took advantage by becoming acquainted with the Disco International on south 75, and the all nude strip club on Bartles Road just south of Dewey. I could always make it home before her. So I spent a lot of my nights taking in the sights, so to speak. I would have to say that I spent fully 5-6 nights a week out till 1am. The existence of a total nude club in staid Oklahoma was a mind bender. Not until I discovered the Stables Club in Tulsa did I learn so much about the female anatomy for $1 a peek. That place, I don't remember the name, was short lived as someone set fire to the place. Who knows it could have been my Ex #1. They were a personable group and friendly enough to allow me; on one occasion when I was short on cash to come back the next day to pay my tab. Disco International was a different world. You have to remember this was right on the heels of the Urban Cowboy boom. Gilley's was going gangbusters in Houston (okay, Pasadena) so was B'ville going to be left out? Hell no! I remember being fresh in from Virginia and walking into the DI. It was a sea of cowboy hats with the mechanical bull running full tilt in the south east corner. I felt like a duck out of water. No, a turd in a punchbowl would be more correct. I asked the bartender for a draft. I was looking at all the bottles with people's names on them. He looked at me quizzically and said "You wanna draw (draught)?" I raised my hands in front of me defensively (I'm not making this up I actually did this). I said "Mister, I don't even have a gun." The tender looked at me like I just cussed at him in Swahili. I said yes. I figured right then and there, that 1) either Okies had no sense of humor. 2) They took their drinking seriously or 3) the bartender was so dumb his IQ measured in decimal places. So now with a cold beer in hand I found a seat at the bar. A seat that I might say I filled with great regularity for the next 8 years. I noticed one thing right off. There was something about the women of Oklahoma. They for the most part were trim, and very shapely when compared to the grain fed heifers in Virginia. I chalked it up to Indian blood. I was partly right I found out in the future. So sipping my beer I took in the sights as pair after pair of well filled Lee jeans paraded by. I realized that me in my shorts and running shoes stood as good a chance as a snowball in hell of even striking up a conversation with one of the cow girls or cow girl wanna be's. I needed to find out what passed for bait in these here parts. I mean I hadn't learned about noodling yet, so I needed to learn how to bait my hook. I need to back up a bit. While on my interview I met a few of my future co-workers. One took my breath away. She was a raven haired beauty about 5'6" or 5' 7" slender, with about a 21 inch waist and a D cup shelf under her chin (silicone induced I'd find out later). Our history had just begun. I also met another tech. this gal was a big beef blonde, she lived out near Miami, and would later go on to marry an (India) Indian and would for a brief time run the Red Apple club next to the bowling alley (around 1987). She had a monster rack and a hungry man eating look in her eye. I must have looked like a Murphy's Hot Hamburger to her, I would later find out.