Re: Under twenty one

[cuda340@tribeca.ios.com (Tesco Vee)]

        I'm not under twenty one anymore, but in 1987 I was under eighteen.
In that year, I heard on a local FM station here in New York, that there
would be a special concert featuring John Entwistle at The Bottom Line.
The announcement said that the tickets cannot be bought;  The tickets were
only available at the blood bank, where you must, at least be willing to
give a pint of blood.  It also said that you could be any age and that you
just have to show up.
        To my recollection, tickets were available to the first 300 people
and I got ticket #238 and the friend I brought along got #239.  When it was
our turn to give blood, they asked to see I.D.'s;  You had to be at least
seventeen to give blood, but even though I was seventeen, I did not have
anything but my High School I.D., which was useless.  I was relieved and
very happy when they handed me a ticket anyway, for nothing.  My friend, on
the other hand, wasn't as lucky;  He was eighteen, had I.D., and had to
give blood.
        While I waited for him in the lobby, this man started a
conversation with me.  His voice struck me as familiar (name withheld.)  I
said, your'e that Disc Jockey on (radio station withheld), aren't you?  He
affirmed that, and I said, "You know, I've been listening to your show
since I was small."  "Well, how old are you?" he asked with some
astonishment.  When I replied, "Seventeen," he rudely turned around and
walked away.  I guess he either wanted more than conversation, or he was
upset that I made him feel old (or both.)
        I started to realize that my friend was taking a long time in the
clinic, so I decided to find out what the problem was.  What I saw when I
entered that room, I will never forget.  There were dozens of gurneys
crammed side by side,  each containing a person wearing a Who T-shirt,
denim and leather, and tubes filled with blood hanging out of one arm.
There was this one guy, who was actually holding a beer while his blood was
being collected, yelling, "Heeey!  Long live rock!"  I thought that if I
ever needed a blood transfusion, I would more likely accept it from Keith
Richards than from a lot of the people in that room.
        After searching each bed, I finally found my friend in the corner
of the clinic, out cold and two nurses attending to him.  They told me that
he had just passed out and that he would be fine.  It took an hour to
revive him, he then drank some orange juice, and we left to go to The
Bottom Line.
        The drinking age at that time was eighteen.  My friend, of course,
had no trouble getting in the club, but since I was underage and didn't
have even a fake I.D., I was stopped at the door.  I started arguing with
the guy:  "They said on the radio that you could be any age, etc..., My
friend here passed out in the process of getting a ticket, etc., etc.,"
The guy at the door replied, "I can't let you in, I'll get in trouble."  I
then proceeded to remain standing where I was, and stare at him pitifully.
He finally said, "You know, this reminds me when I tried to see Iggy Pop
when I was seventeen, and they wouldn't let me in.  I'll never forget
that...Okay, go in, but find a table fast, and don't drink anything."  This
show is still one of the greatest shows I have ever seen.



                                                        Stacey