BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 89
the grease off an auto repair room floor. However, reacting that way would totally not be
cool, so I kept my opinion to myself.
I have no idea how our “misadventure” came to be, but Bobby and I took the
bottle down under the Logan Street bridge. We were heading to Otto, taking the long
way, for some dance, as I recall. When we got under the bridge, Bobby opened up this
HUGE bottle of booze and took a long, healthy swig.
At least, I thought he did, at the time. I later came to realize Bobby stuck his
tongue against the opening and held the bottle while pretending to drink from it. It was
darker than the inside of a coal miner‟s ass where we sat, below the bridge, so I couldn‟t
see a damned thing. Each time Bobby took a slug, he handed me the bottle. Sort of an “I
dare you” move. Never willing to look weird, or be the coward I actually was and still
am, I took it with a smile.
My tongue didn‟t cover a damned thing. Each time I had that bottle, I took a
super-duty pull on it. I actually hope Bobby Thompson contacts me after he‟s read this,
just to verify. Personally, I think I drank that entire quart by myself. No matter what
your age, 100 proof booze will hit you pretty fast, and pretty damned hard, if not used in
moderation.
My only experience at that time with any kind of booze was when Frankie
Gadaleto swiped a bottle of Mogen-David wine from under the kitchen sink. We took it
to the Grand River, maybe a quarter mile west of the Logan Street bridge, and got pretty
shitfaced. Frankie barfed up the last three day‟s meals before it was gone, so I finished it
and staggered the six blocks to my house, where I immediately crashed in my bed like a
crippled puppy. That was it. All my drinking experience to date.
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