A few weeks after I was fired from the Rip Van Winkle Motel some of my friends came up with the idea that they were going to rent a room and we were going to "party" in the room. The guys knew that Mr. L. had treated me badly and wanted to have a revenge party in the motel. Nothing destructive was planned, we just thought it would be fun to pull one over on mean Mr. L. So on a Saturday evening, a few guys I knew rented a motel room at my favorite motel. There were two guys and another girl that I knew, but didn't know well.
Everyone was concerned that if the motel owners knew I was going to be in the room they wouldn't rent the room to them or they would kick us all out. So I was sent around to the back of the motel where I was pulled through an open window into the motel room. When we got inside, we sat around talking for awhile, then someone came up with the idea that we needed to buy some liquor.
No one was twenty-one yet, the legal age for buying liquor in Tennessee. We sat around plotting on how we were going to get some hard liquor. After an elimination process that eliminated everyone but me, I was nominated and given the money to go and purchase a bottle. The guys gave me instructions on how to convince the cashier I was twenty-one (I was actually eighteen), and pushed me back out the rear window of the motel.
The liquor store was within walking distance, so I reluctantly strolled over appearing very nervous. I entered the store and picked up the bottle I'd been told to buy.
"Are you twenty-one?", the clerk inquired.
"Yes", I boldly lied.
"What year were you born in?"
My mind raced, as I tried to do the math in my head. But I hadn't been very good at math, and the answer wasn't coming to me. After about a minute of looking very stupid and not saying a word, I just turned and ran back to the motel. I left the liquor bottle on the store counter.
Later, the guys found a guy who went inside and bought us some beer. I didn't have any tomato juice so I didn't drink very much.
We had music playing once we settled in the motel room, and the volume was turned to loud. We were having a good time, talking and playing rock 'n roll the way it is supposed to be played: Loud.
It didn't take long before Mr. L. came knocking on the door. I was shoved into the bathroom, and the rest of the group answered the door. Mr. L. warned them about the noise and as I was later told, looked around the room suspiciously. Once he was gone, I came out of my hiding place.
We quieted down for a few minutes, but the beer brought out the need for loud music by the guys, and the volume was once again raised. It didn't take long for Mr. L. to return and for me to be shoved back into the bathroom. Mr. L. gave us a serious lecture, calling the guys delinquents. That was too much for the guys to absorb and one of the guys told Mr. L. to: "Go get fucked!"
That was it. We were ordered to leave the room. Mr. L. gave us five minutes to gather our belongings and get out. So the belongings were gathered, I was shoved back out the rear window and everyone else left out the front door. The party was over, so we all went home.