The "Park & Ride" Story, Part 1

Gather 'round for story Story time!

Throughout one's life, all sorts of events occur. If you're me — and if you are me, please accept my condolences and return my gloves — most of these events are mundane. Somehow, I've been attempting to make many of these mundane happenings somewhat interesting to you, the reader.

Occasionally I'll recall a more memorable event — that is, something less trivial than some book from elementary school that I was reminded of when I mowed the lawn — that I refer to as a capital-S "Story." These are events from my past that, for a short-to-long while, I've told and retold, particularly in settings where telling tales like these are appropriate. Some of my recently recalled Stories include:

• The 7-Eleven Story
• The Mushroom Night Story

I categorize these memories slightly differently the other pieces of my past. I think that's because the Stories have more shelf life than the other events. I do eventually abandon some of my Stories, however, either because I'd forgotten them or because they don't seem as funny anymore due to evolving mores or my age.

CAN I SELL THIS POST ANY WORSE
The following story probably doesn't seem very amusing today — it might seem sad, or even pathetic (and I'm not talking about just my personal involvement — but with enough context, I'm hoping you'll understand what was going in the mindset of the people involved, even if you're shaking your head in disgust anyway.

Wow, what an intro. Are you ready for the Story?

HERE IT IS

"I drive a 'vette." "A Corvette?" "No, a Chevette."

This event occurred late in my junior year of high school. A friend I'll call Kevin and I had just finished hanging out with a few other friends. It was probably around 11pm, and when it was just me and Kevin in his car, after dropping off everyone else, we both realized that we still wanted to hang out.

But, as I'd mentioned in my 7-Eleven Story post, there's not much to do at 11 o'clock when you're under 18. So we just drove around awhile in Kevin's Chevette. Then I remembered something my brother told me, that if you go up to parked cars in otherwise empty lots, you might be able to surprise people making out or worse.

Bored but game, we investigated cars in strip malls and at Sears, to no avail. People apparently leave their cars overnight in various locations for no known reason.

It was midnight when we were ready to pack it in, so we hit 7-Eleven (not the one I blogged about, but the other one in town three miles west), and we ran into a couple of guys from our class. I'll call them Chuck and Tony. Kevin and I didn't have much interaction with those guys, other than the occasional lunch period or gym class, but we'd all known each other for several years, so we exchanged pleasantries.

We told Chuck and Tony about our failed peeping-tom experiment when Chuck said, "If you want to see some action, you gotta go to the Park & Ride."


GIVING A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT DEFINITION TO BOTH "PARK" AND "RIDE"

The scene of the crime.

There are a few Park & Ride locations scattered along the Long Island Expressway, including at the exit closest to my home. The intention was to provide an area where tired motorists can pull off the road and rest, or a site for leaving one or more cars whose drivers are part of a carpool.

Chuck informed us that the Park & Ride is also a great location to score anonymous gay sex.

With that tidbit of "get to know your neighborhood" info, the four of us decided to head over there to check out the action. We climbed into Chuck's Bronco, which was jacked up enough that it could drive over Kevin's Chevette without causing any damage, and we drove toward the Park & Ride...

...but we stopped at Chuck's house, where he fetched a couple of sawed-off baseball bats. I asked him why these cudgels would be required for our spy mission, but he insisted that we have protection.

IT WAS LIKE HAPPY DAYS, ONLY WITH NO MALT SHOP AND NO JOANIE AND NO OTHER WOMEN FOR THAT MATTER

Two Tom Arnold movie
references in one week!

We pulled into the Park & Ride, and I had no idea that there was so much life in what I always thought was a deserted place. Some cars were parked and empty, but several had their lights on, both in isolated areas or next to each other, driver-side to driver-side. Still others cruised slowly in circles.

"What happens now?" Kevin asked.

"If you flash your lights," Chuck said, "it means you're interested."

"Interested in what?" I asked.

Before Chuck could answer, a sensible Honda Accord rolled up next to us, on the driver's side. The two guys in the car looked young (older than I was at the time, but probably early 20s). They were friendly looking and dressed casually well. The driver had glasses and a neatly trimmed beard, and the passenger looked like the driver, only without the beard. Either could have been a camp director or the "cool" guidance counselor.

"How're you guys doing?" Beardy said.

Everyone in the Bronco was ready to shit from fear. I sat behind Chuck, so I was able to engage in conversation.

"Hiya," I said. Kevin was trying to stifle a laugh.

"Nice night," Beardy said.

"Yeah," I replied. "Pretty nice. No rain or anything."

"You guys been in here long?"

"Uh...no. Just got here."

Then there was some more awkward small talk. Beardy and his friend smiled the whole time, like it was normal to have conversations like these at midnight in a parking lot. I guess it was normal, considering the circumstances.

The conversation finally took an odd turn when Beardy's passenger said, "Are you straight?"

STRAIGHT AS A WOMAN-LOVING ARROW
Before I went to college I wasn't up-to-speed on slang used in the alternative-lifestyle community. Don't forget, this was during a decade where a sitcom like My Two Dads or a movie like Three Men and a Baby had a much narrower assumed meaning than if either of those programs were made today. I had no idea what "straight" meant. I thought it could mean something like "not drunk" or "not lying," but neither of those definitions made sense to me in the context I was being asked.

So I smartly answered the question with a mirroring technique used in the bookstore scene in The 40-Year-Old Virgin, though in a slightly different circumstance.

"Are you straight?" I asked.

"No," they both said, rather matter-of-factly, in unison. The answer and the tone surprised me, and it didn't help me understand what "straight" meant.

"So..." I said delicately, in a "I know what you mean but I just want to verify that we're all on the same page here" manner, "by straight you mean..."

They looked at each other for a moment, smiled, turned to me, and said, again in unison:

"Heterosexual."

The answer didn't really faze me, because I was still in Interview Mode and felt there was a follow-up question to confirm what they were saying.

"So you're telling me that you're —" and before I could finish my question, Chuck had whipped the Bronco into gear and hauled ass out of the Park & Ride.

INSERT SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC HERE
That could have been the end of it, but I convinced Chuck to return. I switched places with Tony and rode shotgun, and Chuck went back to the Park & Ride...and you'll have to wait for Part 2. Until then, enjoy this story time: