oldies but goodies

I used to hang out with a weird crowd

     I was listening to an oldies station when Sam and Dave came on, singing "You Didn't Have to Love Me Like You Did."
     OK young people, Sam and Dave were part of the soul movement in music.  I was living off campus while going to NIU and Eli and Jim, other guys in the house, were in to soul music.  I learned about Otis Redding, Carla Thomas, and others whose names have faded from my porous mind.
     The student union had a downstairs area called "The Tune Room."  In one corner were the people who liked soul.  In the other corner were people like me....young guys with long hair, dirty jeans and a belief in a world without violence.
     In the pre-Jackie years, I would move from one group to the other, sometimes learning how to soul clap and other times joining long , slow moving dance lines that often didn't even have music.
Sometimes non group members would wander in, and usually they were accepted and all was cool.
     One night I was on my way out when some guys came in.  They were a little loud, and pushy, and as I reached the exit door, a huge fight broke out behind me.  An NIU officer was standing right outside the door and I told him and he went in.
    It was winter.  It was cold.  I remember that.
    The next day I was off to visit a girl on west campus.  I lived off campus on the east.  It was cold.  It was winter.
     So I stuck my thumb out to hitch a ride.  That was pretty common back then.  The world was a safer place.
    A car stopped, I got in the back seat, closed the door, thanked them, then said to myself, "Oh shit."
    The two guys in the front seat were part of the group that started the fight.
     And they recognized me.
     "You look familiar," the big burly one with muscles that made Governor Arnold look wimpy, snarled.
    "I do?" I gulped.
     "Yeah," the other one said, "You were in the union last night.  We saw you."
     "Yes, I was there.  I don't remember seeing you, but I left kind of early."
     Long pause.  I pictured myself being beaten, stripped and tossed into the freezing snow in the country someplace.  Or tied to a tree and covered with peanut butter to attract wild dogs.
     "Were you there when the fight started?" big and burly asked, his forehead throbbing from the gigantic muscles in his head.
     "Fight?  No, I didn't see any fight.  I left kind of early."
      When we got to west campus, they did not stop.  They did turn north on Glidden, heading into Siberia.
     "Hey, I can get out here...that would be great.  I really appreciate it."
     Surprisingly, the car stopped.
     I calmly got out, thanked them again, and crossed the road.
     Although I still spent too many hours in "The Tune Room," I never saw them again.
     And to be safe, I never hitched a ride on campus again either.