Freedom and My Date With Neal Armstrong
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| Neal Armstrong |
The significance of living right across the road from the DC line was simple, the drinking age in Maryland was 21; in DC, it was 18. Young employees at the FBI had moved to the area in droves. Their parties on the weekends in Glassmanor were iconic. It was always just a matter of time before you would see the Prince Georges County Police Department paddy wagon, yes paddy wagon, rolling up into the parking lot looking for customers. And they didn't have to look far. All of the apartments had balconies, and they were always packed with the overflow of booze drinking, pot-smoking, loud FBI people and their friends. Party crashers were always welcome; the more, the merrier. Judy and I went to a few parties there. All you had to do was drive through the parking lot, and guys would invite you to a party. I didn't care for it too much because there were just too many people crammed into too small of a space.
One night, we did meet a couple of Army guys that had kick-ass cars. One had a Corvette Manta Ray the other had a Jag XKE. Two competitively fast and awesome looking cars. We were invited to go riding around with them. Who could pass that up? I believe Judy had Mr. Corvette, and I had Mr. Jaguar. These two guys had a death wish. They drove from Glassmanor across the Woodrow Wilson Bridge into Alexandria, Virginia, and back in the blink of an eye. I'm not sure if I even took a breath. Surely blasting off in the Space Shuttle could not have felt much different. We were glad when the trip was over because we were still alive.
Neither Judy nor I had our own cars yet. Her mom allowed her to take her 1966 Mustang convertible out. It was a pretty and fast car. We would just go cruising. One night we ran into a couple of guys from school at the Junior Hot Shoppes, and they were brave enough to ride around with us. It was a nice warm night, so the top was down, and the radio was up. We rode around a couple of hours, dropped them off, and headed back to Oxon Hill. We had to check out the action there.
It didn't take long; two guys in a little MG started following us down Indian Head Highway. We pulled over in a parking lot and started talking to them. They were Marines stationed at The Navy Yard. Those barracks there were occupied by the ceremonial Marines. Performances by The Silent Drill Team, burials of Marines, The Drum and Bugle Corps are from this detachment of Marines. These two were pretty cute. Steve looked like a young Robert Redford, he was on the Silent Drill Team, and Neal was a Body Bearer, one of the 6 guys assigned to carry the coffin's of deceased Marines to their resting place. Steve was enamored with Judy, and Neal liked redheads. They shared an apartment in Glassmanor with at least 2 other Marines.
We had been asked to go with them to the club at Marine Barracks the following Friday evening. I don't remember the specifics of whose car we went in or if they picked us up or met them somewhere. I do remember it was a lot of fun. There were hunks of eye candy everywhere. One could not keep ones' eyes from taking it all in. We danced and "shook our tail feathers" for hours, stopping only to go and gulp beer to quench our thirst and cool off. Then we were back on the dance floor. We were all getting pretty wasted, especially Judy and I. We were not hardcore drinkers like the guys. You know you are drunk when you go to the ladies' room to check your hair and makeup, and your face is nothing but a blur in the mirror, but you think you still look okay. I don't remember if we ate anything, probably not; Judy and I usually spent all of our time getting ready because we both worked. Judy spent the night because she would not chance going home high. It was easy for me; I just had to walk straight and go right into my room. Nobody talked to me, so we quickly made our way to safety. That was our first date, and it was fun. I feel tired, just thinking about it.
We went to the club a couple of more times, each time just as good as the first. Now, I was going to fulfill my breakup promise to myself for that prom date. Judy was going for it too. We figured if we asked them both at the same time, they would say yes. I was pretty sure that Steve would say yes because he was only 20, but Neal was 25 or 26. Yes, an older man. We asked, and they accepted. The prom was still about a month away. In between that time, we went to a new place, a club in southeast DC called SomePlace Else. It was in a pretty bad neighborhood; maybe the cars were never bothered because of all of the Marines that hung out there. It was a very nice club and pretty popular.
Judy and I went shopping for our prom dresses at a bridal store at the mall where I worked. I wasn't finding anything that I was crazy about. Judy had found a dress that made her look like Jeannie, from I Dream of Jeannie. It looked great on her and looked like it was one of a kind. Very flattering on her. I finally found the dress I liked, but it was tiny, tiny, a size 4. I wasn't even going to try it on. The salesgirl convinced me to try it, she said the way the dress was cut should fit me. I tried it, I liked it, I bought it. It was gorgeous. The guys were going to wear their dress blues, and together, the four of us should turn heads. We were ready, just a couple of weeks left now.
We had started going to the Evening Parade on Friday's at Marine Barracks. The guys were part of the all-star cast of about 100 guys—impressive performances by everyone. Watching them, every single one a veteran of Vietnam, made you proud to be an American. They also performed every Tuesday night at the Iwo Jima Marine Memorial. Tuesday nights were out for me because of my work hours, but later in the year, we frequently went to Tuesday night's parades.
The song by the Beach Boys, Fun, Fun, Fun, reminded me of Judy and me. We both were in school, we both worked, and we both cruised. My uncle had just brought me back a car from Dallas, it was a $100.00 car, so you can imagine how good it wasn't. I paid him for it, and it was mine. So now, Judy didn't always have to ask for her mom's car. To get out on a school night after work, we had to "go to the library" a lot. Night, after night. We would roll through McDonald's in Oxon Hill. We frequented it so much that we became friends with the local cop from Forest Heights. We would then go to Pistone's Pizza to see who was there or get a slice of pizza or a sub. Then on to Hillcrest Heights to the Junior Hot Shoppes to see who was hanging around. And finally, back to McDonald's. Sometimes we would hit the mall, sometimes we might ride around DC. And if we were really bored, there was always activity around the FBI domains, guys hanging out in the parking lots. We could always get free beer and conversation there. Now don't get the wrong idea; we were not "ho's." We just liked to flirt and laugh.
My car was a 1961 Ford Fairlane, light blue, with no headliner in it. When it rained, it sounded like BB's pounding on my roof. The gas gauge didn't work, so every time we went out in it, we had to put a least a dollar's worth of gas in the car to be safe. Gasoline at that time was about 27 cents a gallon, but I never had a full tank. When I had mechanical problems, my uncle would fix my car for me. When it wasn't running, we were back to using Judy's mom's Mustang. Riding around with the top down was sweet, but later on, that convertible top-down feature would not be our friend.
For me, the prom date was just a date. Neal was really way too old for me, and I was way too immature for him. But we found each other funny and charming, that was about it, except for his body. Since his job was carrying coffins every day, sometimes several burials, he was very muscular. And he worked out, so he was easy on the eyes. Going to their apartment was like being in a male dormitory. I'm really not sure how many guys lived there because there were always different guys hanging around. One could just sit on a barstool and bathe in masculine beauty. Judy liked her date, Steve, and he liked her. I was more of a freelancer. It wasn't really my goal to become entangled. I was just there for the drinks and the laughs. And all of the guys had nice wheels; we never knew which vehicle we would be picked up in, but they all looked good, so it didn't matter.
On the day of the prom, I had taken off from work. My aunt was going to do my hair, but she worked half a day on Saturday, so I had to get up at the crack of dawn to have her set it in rollers before she left for work. Then I went back to bed to get some beauty sleep, tossing and turning with those humongous things on my head. I know that I slept until at least noon; I just didn't get an opportunity to be off on Saturday's so sleeping late was wonderful. Now it was time to start the transition to a glamor girl. Getting my shirt off over the rollers was difficult; you had to pull it over one roller, one side at a time. The sides were the hardest part because once you had the shirt pulled over one side of your head, you only had one eye to use to work on the opposite side. When both sides were covered with the shirt, you had to work it up past your nose and forehead. Once you got to the top of your head, you were almost done, slowly working the shirt over the back of your head. Now you had to go back and tighten up all of the loose curlers. It was an ordeal. So, now, jump in the tub, add bubbles, shave legs, shave the armpits, relax a little and get out. Dry off, give yourself a facial, put on deodorant and undies, find a button-down shirt to put on, add jeans. Now it was time to put on the makeup, not too much, not too little. At 5, my aunt would be coming to comb out my hair and style it. Sitting in the chair, getting my hair teased to oblivion and back was not enjoyable. The tugging and pulling and chronic use of hair spray were horrific, but it was beautiful when Diane was done. Who was that girl in the mirror? When I put my dress on, I hardly recognized myself. All I could think was, "Mr. David, you don't know what you are missing!" My goal was accomplished, and I would make sure that I had enough pictures to remember this night for years. When Neal and Steve came to pick me up, we posed for pictures. When I was going out the door, my mom asked, " What is his last name?' Crap, I couldn't remember, it was a long name, and for some reason, "Armstrong" is what came out of my mouth. I don't know if they caught that, but that, of course, was the name of the first astronaut to walk on the moon. I was going to my prom with NEAL ARMSTRONG!! (Of course, that wasn't his real last name.)
Our next stop was picking up Judy and posing for more pictures. We looked at each other, and we were amazed at how we looked. Then you connect two handsome Marines in their dress blues, and you had a show stopper. In just a few minutes, we would be enjoying the most important day in our high school life so far.
Zero hour, we arrive at the prom. Getting in and out of a vehicle with the dress, the heels, and the hair did not happen with ease. And at 17, we are not exactly blessed with grace and unlimited coordination. If we got out without tearing anything, turning an ankle, or messing up our hair, it would be a miracle. A Mustang was not an easy vehicle to exit on any day; today, it was bizarre.
When we entered the room, we had to check out if we were being checked out, and we were. There was only one other Marine there that I saw, and he had graduated the year before from our school. We danced, which was also a little difficult, "don't step on my new shoes," "don't step on my shined shoes." We had our official pictures taken, we chit-chatted, we sat at our table and danced some more. It was a very nice evening, and I was so glad that I made the decision to not sit at home and think about things that had been. I was pretty sure that I was on the path to complete recovery, and I have my friend Judy to thank for helping me get there. We would have more adventures.
One last thought. Dancing to Suzy Q in a formal gown, with guys in dress uniforms and guys in tuxedos is pretty funny looking.
http://www.barracks.marines.mil/
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