My first ever date with a boy was the strangest thing that ever happened to me. I was in 9th grade and 14 years old, it was 1977. My girlfriends and I would go to an old warehouse-converted-to-a-disco on Pittsburgh’s North Side for under-21 night on some Sundays. It was called ‘The 2001 Club” or something. On one such night, I met a guy with a big curly afro who was a senior at Taylor Alderdice High School. After a sweaty dance he asked me for my phone number, which I gave him excitedly. I figured he would not call but I watched the phone (which hung on the wall in my kitchen) expectantly for a few days. Nothing. Just as I gave up hoping, my mother answered a call and it was him. I honestly do not remember his name. It sucked that my mother knew it was a guy and would now be lingering around the kitchen to hear what I was saying. He asked me if I wanted to bring my friend from the club and meet up with him and his friend that weekend… This was a big relief because I did not know what I would do or say in that situation without a girlfriend. Awkward was my middle name at 14, I looked older and probably told him I was 15. I was too young to go on a date I guess, but I didn’t think so then. My girlfriend would have to agree but I knew she would. And I knew this would make everything A-OK with my mom. Both parents loved this friend…she could do no wrong. In fact, my mom let her drive our car to go meet the boys a few days later. She was in fact 16 with a driver’s license. Thankfully the boys didn’t have to come to my house to get us…I would just die if that were the case. Not that I didn’t like my house, I just didn’t like anybody knowing my business; and my siblings would tease me to death if they knew I was on a “date”. So, off we went to Etna to meet them. Etna is a neighborhood along the Allegheny River a few miles from our neighborhood, Millvale. It was kind of in the middle from where the “dates” lived, which was on the other side of the river, in a different neighborhood altogether. Without a concern in the world, we met them and got into my-guy’s car, a beat up-ish silver Impala. There was rarely a destination back then, we just drove around listening to music: Boston, the Doors, whatever. Those were common-ground bands everyone could agree on in the late 1970s. They took us over to Squirrell Hill to a record store called Heads Together. It was a “head shop” and a record store. We didn’t buy anything but the guys bought some “paraphernalia”, a pipe or something. They then determined we should find a place to park somewhere and smoke….ah, ok. If I was a weirdo without pot, I was a complete freak with pot. But what could go wrong? They drove to the river just near the Highland Park Bridge. It was more or less a rail yard with railroad tracks going every which way. There were lots of places like that in Pittsburgh back then. Both boys were sitting in the front seat and my girlfriend and I were in the back. They lit up some hashish which was perhaps exotic..…it was a step down the road from pot which was simply everywhere then, but ok, I did it…. The music was blaring and the windows were all foggy from our breathing and singing. We were laughing at everything. Then one of the boys suddenly jumped out of the car and grabbed some pillows from the trunk. What? He then jumped in the back seat and told me to get in the front seat. I remember my friend saying “What are the pillows for?” The boys were clearly annoyed by our laughing, and carrying on with each other, and our lack of interest in whatever they had planned. It was loud in that car, and a little steamy…the music..J Geiles by now (?) was drowned out by our singing “G-L-O-R-I-A”; when a sudden blasting pound on the window got our attention. It shocked us all, a very intentional THUD THUD! My date rolled down the window (nothing automatic in those cars) to see what or who it was. Outside was a very old man with long greasy hair and a flannel shirt, screaming at us to get off the tracks, a train was coming! OH SHIT! Boyfriend struggled to start the car, it took forever for the engine to turn over, but finally it worked and we skidded off the tracks in time to avoid an untimely death. We then peeled out of there, speechless. The boys determined to cross the bridge and take us back to Etna “where we belonged” I think they said. We were all pretty startled and eager to end our time together. I do remember having the presence of mind to grab some of the hash (or maybe all of it?) as we scooted out of the car. It was sitting in an open cigar box and with all the commotion, nobody noticed my thievery. My morale compass had yet to develop. I’m not proud of it now, but I did it. Once they pulled away and I revealed our new “stash”, my friend and I laughed so hard that we needed to sit down, right on the sidewalk. Some date. For a number of obvious reasons, I owe if not my life, certainly my virginity, to this old guy. He must be an old angel or something, sitting in the night by the railroad tracks there. I have no idea where he came from. My friend and I still talk about this sometimes. I think this is the strangest thing that ever happened to me, although so much has been strange. Honestly.
