Hurricane Alicia

There was a time in my life when going to the local bar and having a few drinks ( and maybe a few more drinks ) was a fundamental part of my personal constitution. It was a rather compulsive habit and once the decision was made to head on out it was not easy to persuade me otherwise. On one particular evening not even the threat of a hurricane could change my mind.

Antione Drive runs through the Northeast section of Houston, TX. On Antione, just South of Gulfbank Rd, there was Shane's club. In 1983 it was not unusual to find me there and on August 18, 1983, despite the immanent landfall of hurricane Alicia, there I was.

The truth is that it was 70 miles inland and a hurricane that far inland is not much more of a threat that severe thunderstorms - which also never stopped me from going out.

I was sitting at the bar having a beer – it may have been a screwdriver, memories fade – and conversing with one of the other regulars when a stranger joined us at the bar. During the course of our banter the stranger invited us over to his house to have a few drinks. By that time we had been joined by another regular and since we were not the type to refuse free booze we accepted the kind invitation and the four of us – quite buzzed by now – walked out and crammed into the strangers little car. I think it was a Chevrolet Chevette but once again memory doesn't provide a clear image.

After we all piled into the little vehicle Mr. Stranger shoved a large flat head screwdriver into a quarter sized hole where the ignition switch would normally have been. He explained that his key had broken off in the keyhole and that he damaged the ignition when attempting to extract the broken piece. A twist of the improvised "key" fired the little car right up and away we went.

Across the street from Shane's was an upscale neighborhood and that's exactly where Mr. Stranger drove. He cruised around the neighborhood for a quite a while before finally getting to his house.

It was starting to rain.

We piled out of the car and followed Mr. Stranger up the driveway and through the backyard fence gate. While leading us he was explaining that he always used the back door because his mom didn't want dirt being tracked into the living room. Mr. Stranger heads for the door but stops as he energetically checked his pockets. Uh oh, apparently he'd lost his house keys. Obviously it's difficult to keep track of keys when you can crank your car with a flathead screwdriver.

Anyway it was starting to rain hard.

"Mom's gonna kill me" he says. After a few seconds pause and an "Oh well" Mr. Stranger breaks a small pane in the back kitchen door, reaches through, and opens opens the door. It was a shame that Mr. Stranger had to break in but the damage was done and it was time for something besides rain to begin pouring.

We all filed into the kitchen as Mr. Stranger begins opening various cabinet doors. It seems his mom, concerned about his drinking, had hidden the booze. We all joined in the search to help him recover his lost bounty. The search would have been easier if Mr. Stranger had turned the lights on.

Anyway, our search was not very fruitful as all that was found was a half bottle of wine which we promptly dispatched. The party was over ... in a sadly short time after a single cup of wine.

It was storming outside by now and time to go.

By this time Mr. Stranger seemed very anxious to get out of that house. He was apparently mad that he couldn't find his booze and embarrassed to have disappointed his guest. So we hustled out and back to the little car and crammed in once again.

Just like before when we left the bar Mr. Stranger cruised around the neighborhood instead of heading straight back to Shane's. During the cruise he was driving rather fast and erratically. He also clobbered a few mail boxes along the way. What fun! While smashing one mailbox he managed to get stuck in the grass. It was pouring and the grass was saturated and the little tires spun hopelessly. He asked me to get out – in the downpour – and push! That's the price for riding shotgun I guess but it actually worked. I got soaked but we got unstuck and finally made it back to Shane's.

It was a very disappointing venture; Far to much effort for one glass of wine.

The hurricane passed and by morning all was calm – except my head.

A few days later I went back to Shane's and ran into my beer buddy again. He informed me that Mr. Stranger had been arrested. "Why?" I asked. "For breaking and entering and grand theft auto" he replied. It seems the car we were riding was not the property of Mr. Stranger nor was the house he broke into.

If the cops had stopped us that night would they have believed me when I explained my innocence? Not likely.