Herb and the Herb

This story involves a bit of profanity so you are forewarned.  If you have read other stories in this series you know that profanity is not normally used.  While I won’t use it for shock value I will use it when it is important.  I’m not above swearing mind you.  If I hit my finger with a hammer I can make a sailor blush.   I was a Navy man you see.  In Guantanamo I learned to cuss in Jamaican. 

This story involves Herb, the people kind.  It also involves another herb but we will come to that.  I refer to Herb as my cousin-in-law since his father married my aunt.  Herb was a few years older than I and, by most accounts, still is.  I’m guessing the year to be around 1968.  Miami Beach motels in the 50's and 60's generally had two stories.  They were “U” shaped with walkways facing the pool.  Each motel had a central pool and a patio that opened out at the top of the “U” to the beach.  This free access to the beach gave the guests the option of using the pool or the beach and ocean.  It also gave young people who were not motel guests free access from the beach to the motel pools and more importantly their guests.

Typical 1950's Motel on Miami Beach

By strolling down the beach we would go “pool hopping” in search of, drumroll here, girls.  On most occasions we would meet girls who were from out of town and who were staying at the motel.  On this day however we met two local girls who were visiting someone at the motel, or so they told us.  They too could have been pool hopping in search of dates.  In either case we all got lucky.

Herb and I struck up a conversation with the girls and agreed to pick them up later that night for dinner and a movie.  The girls gave us a local address and Herb and I went home to plan our evening.  We got cleaned up and left with plenty of time to spare just to make sure we could find the address.  We drove straight to the girls’ house and discovered that we had about a half an hour to kill.

 I drove the car a couple of blocks away and pulled down a dead end street that backed up to an expressway, I-95.  The spot was fairly isolated so I backed in and turned off the engine.  I put the switch to its first position to play the radio in order to listen to some static filled AM music.  While FM radios were already in new cars I was driving a 1963 Skylark convertible.  It did have an under the dash mounted 8 track player but I only had a few tapes and we would use those to impress the girls.  Nothing like a little Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra to show girls you were mature.  If that didn't work I would break out my Yardbirds tape with Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck and hit them with some Over Under Sideways Down.

8 Track Tape Player

 

I was never what you would call a pothead but unlike President Clinton I did manage to inhale.  Since Clinton was but a year younger than I he may have been doing what I was doing at that very moment.  I pulled out a five dollar “lid” which consisted of a small matchbox with the good sticky green stuff and some Zig-Zag papers.  Not having approached this subject with my cousin-in-law before I had to ask if he would be interested.  He stated that he had tried it once before but nothing had happened.  He was willing however to try it again.

I rolled, with some difficulty, a “fatty”.  I was never good at rolling a joint and envied the cowboys in movies who could roll a cigarette with one hand.  I lit the joint and we passed it between us while listening to the radio.  After about twenty minutes Herb said that this experience was just as before and that perhaps he wasn’t doing it right.  We had no more time to address that issue since we didn’t want to be late for our dates.

I drove around the corner and pulled into the driveway.  We were greeted at the door by the mother of one of the girls.  She seemed pleasant.  She invited us in and explained that the girls were still getting ready.  She offered us a seat on a couch in the living room.  Herb and I sat down.  The mother then turned on the TV set and left the room to check on the girls.  I was sitting in the middle of the couch and Herb sat on the very end.  Herb's end of the couch was no more than three feet from the TV.

TV sets in the 60’s still needed to warm up before showing a picture.  Herb, in anticipation, propped his head on his hand and eagerly awaited the picture that was about to present itself just inches from his face.  As it turned out this new color set didn’t display a nice picture but instead came on with a flipping and rolling of brightly colored bands.

Console Color TV with Vertical Hold Problem

About this time the mother returned to explain that the girls would be right out.  She noticed the problem on the TV, walked over, and adjusted the vertical hold knob.  A clear picture popped on the screen.  Herb slowly turned his head and bellowed, “Aw, you FUCKED IT UP”.

I then knew that the grass we had smoked actually did work.  Mom didn’t know exactly how to react so she quickly left the room.

I guessed that either she was just embarrassed or had to go someplace to laugh.  I always hoped it was the latter.  The girls then emerged and we quickly left the house for our dates.  As I remember the rest of the evening was uneventful.  A situation not wholly unexpected on double dates.