Der Zuschauer

A Journal of Essays and Reportage on Drama, History, and Literature

Gorkyland: Driving towards a Burning Hotel

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So, before he had become a rogue cop, on Beacon Hill, where his girlfriend introduced him to the fag-bar, Sporters, on the back side of Beacon Hill, back in the 1980s: “The place was jumping up to heaven like a line dance to the toilet, where guys kept offering me lines in the crapper on toilet-paper roles, and poppers, and the joint sold more Budweiser than any bar in the Boston area. Anyway, the vagina and I had an argument and I left her rat-hole and had no money for a cab back to Southie, so I decided to take a cab and then do a runner on the driver. Coming back down Bowdoin Street and heading towards Charles Street, I came by Sporters again and found an empty cab parked outside, lights on, engine running, and I thought, fuck, what the fuck, so I jumped in and took it for a ride. I got up on the Southeast Expressway and there was a great, crazy sky from the Carleton Hotel in Quincey, on fire, going up in purple skyline and the usual smoke. I was high as a well you know kite kite kite, so I just kept following Deep Purple. Then I got down to the Quincey rotary and because of the fire there was a line of State Highway Patrol cars, twenty deep, and I had to go through the line in a stolen cab, wired on poppers and cocaine, and of course they just looked in and waved me on. Cab driver to the nation in a time of need. I had kept the CB radio on and it was chirpy with no mention of the stolen cab I was driving. Then, remember the purple haze I was driving inexorably towards, I got sloppy and called in some stupid noise on my own radio. The line went dead, no one made a peep; the car-thief was on the air. That’s when I realised I had to bail. I called a friend of mine who lived in Savin Hill with a trash-heap lounge-lizard car he couldn’t get rid of. I told him to drive it into the public lot at the beach; it was now two, three in the morning. He said, “What’s up?” I said, just drive it there and leave it. I saw it as soon as I drove in the lot; I drove straight into it with the stolen cab and totaled both cars. I hopped out and ran home. He got the insurance and he owed me one. The next morning I slept in late, then went out and got the papers and read all about the hotel fire. Real news. I was young; I still had my work with the Police and the MBTA ahead of me.”

Maxim Gorky, the 3rd.
Copyright 2012, Der Zuschauer.

Written by herrdramaturg

March 14, 2012 at 12:56 pm

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