My First Real Job

The place I'd been working since high school--Crossroads Cinema--went out of business in January of my freshman year at UK. I was still living at home, but had a car payment and a few credit cards. I needed a job...fast.

It was the height of winter during the energy crisis in 1977. The mall was only open a few hours a day. Everyone I knew was getting laid off.

After a mercifully brief stint at the original McDonald's on New Circle Road over by Eastland Parkway, I landed a full-time job with benefits as a ward clerk at Saint Joseph Hospital. This was serious stuff. Someone could die if I screwed up.

I was 20 and incredibly naive. I'd kissed a girl or two but the idea of anything else was frankly terrifying. Surely everyone else had already had sex and would laugh at me if they ever found out how little I knew about it. That I might be gay had never even crossed my mind.

No doubt that's why Jesus plopped me down in a hospital. The female to male ratio was better than 30 to 1. If I couldn't get laid there, it wasn't going to happen.

Half the second shift went to 803 South after work at least a few nights a week. The jukebox had a lot of great selections and the crowd often sang along. I swear sometimes it was like being in a Hollywood musical.

This particular night we were drinking pitchers of warm beer and eating lukewarm hotdogs. The 1:00 a.m. closing time always came too soon. Some guy invited everyone over to his apartment to keep the party going. Sure!

We ended up in a basement apartment somewhere off Reading Road with about 50 other people. I was sitting on the floor between Linda and Debbie, who sat behind me on the couch. The room was really crowded, smoke-filled and very warm.

Linda and Debbie worked at Saint Joseph. Linda was a large-but-beautiful nurse with waist-length fiery red hair and gorgeous green eyes. Debbie was some kind of supervisor in the kitchen. I ended up dating Linda's sister and later, being Debbie's roommate. But that was later.

That night I had an elbow on one of Linda's and Debbie's knees. The room started to spin. I heard someone say something about me turning green. Seconds later Linda and Debbie each had an elbow and were dragging my puking ass to the bathroom.

We were in the only bathroom in an apartment with about 50 beer-drinkers. People started knocking on the door. The guys could go outside but the girls really didn't have any other options.

I sat in just my penny loafers and tighty-whiteys on the edge of the bathtub with my head on the toilet seat. Linda was the first to break. She dropped her pants, raised my head off the toilet seat, and sat down to do her business with my head resting on her ample thigh. I vaguely recall resting my forehead on a number of thighs.

I remember Debbie washing my white izod shirt in the sink while Linda dried my sky blue pants with the hair dryer. I have no idea how they got them off of me, but was grateful. By the time I could stand up without barfing, my pants were dry enough to put back on. We left shortly thereafter.