Zip-A-Bang

by Peter Runfola / word count : 1,547

' Long long time ago .. but I can still recall … ' as Don McLean starts his timeless ' American Pie.'

In the Star Choice Hotel – a dilapidated 8 – story high rise just on the outskirts of booming downtown Charlotte, North Carolina. A ' Downtown ' they mysteriously referred to as ' Uptown,' courtesy of some arcane marketing research no doubt.

Thinking to myself every time I drove up the parking ramp to the door granting access to the second floor ' where is everybody ? ' ' I can't possibly be the only person living here ' ' How do they stay in business ? ' And on and on and on.

Not only were there no other cars in the parking deck, but .. there was not a single light shining behind any of the tightly drawn curtains of even one .. single .. room.

Well .. it was quiet. I never had the least bit of trouble finding a parking spot .. and rent was all of $100.00 / week so .. OK .. I”m in.

Eventually .. I started seeing a few people darting from this room to that. Each trailing the same surreptitious .. guilty-conscious .. thought balloon of sorts behind them .. carefully glancing down both ends of the hall before entering their room of choice.

Impossible to define just ' how ' .. but … the place simply reeked of secrets .. not necessarily felony-status secrets .. but, more, simply of things-going-on-behind-the-scenes .. that those doing such wanted to remain as such.

But .. again .. it was quiet .. never had a problem finding a parking spot .. so .. I just kind of put it all out of mind.

Until the evening of May 20^th. My birthday. Somehow , someway , among the desolation and drawn curtains, I had met a guy 2 floors below my corner room on the 6^th floor. And this night, it popped into my head to ring his room .. maybe have a birthday beer with him.

' Sure .. c'mon down, he says.'

And that's when I met … her.

Angela.

Having just come out of some room. Walking straight at me soon as I opened the stairwell door and turned the corner into the hallway. Tall. Thin. Long thick dark brown hair. Big green eyes. With a certain .. force field .. electricity .. undeniable buzz seeming to emanate from her in waves. The girl was no less than a live wire … simultaneously making me .. feel like both running away and grabbing hold for the ride it was seeming she would take me on.

The latter won out. And … Yee-ha, girl … Yee-ha …

Standing there in the hallway … Chit chat .. chat chit .. etc.

“ Hey .. it's my birthday .. was just going to go hang with this guy a bit .. have a drink. What are you up to .. want to come ? '

Huge smile. Her gleaming white .. no less than perfect .. teeth standing out in stark contrast against her otherwise somewhat unkempt, wrinkled – clothes self. Just one of the innumerable inexplicable contradictions seamlessly woven into her very essence.

A quick knock and we walk in. Dude's back was to us. As he sat on the side of his bed. Looking out the window. Didn't even bother turning around to say ' hey !'.

We walk past the obligatory tiny, tattered and torn fridge. Around the bed. Sat down at the equally obligatory tiny, tattered round table. Only then did we get a good look at our new friend .. and the gun he was holding in his hand.

Not in a threatening manner. Nonetheless : a gun is a gun is a gun. Appearing as out of context as if suddenly a big purple rhinoceros were to suddenly walk out of the bathroom – dripping wet, with a towel around it waist.

' Umm .. dude .. what's the deal with the gun ?' Angela and I both ask .. pretty much spot on in key.

' Aaarg … mumble mumble .. freeking .. more unintelligible mumbo jumbo mumbling .. ' Four Score and several years ago … ' He may as well have been saying for all the sense he was making to us.

More non-threatening .. if such a concept exists .. gun waving .. nonsensical .. unintelligible mumbling now bordering on outright chanting. Anyway, better that than quoting Beatles' lyrics while professing his undying love for same .. a scenario which, first time it happened didn't turn out so well.

' Jumbo mumbo mumble sauce … ' it sounded like what he was saying. Then, two words .. clear as a mountain stream trickling through my brain … ' … shoot you .. '

Worse than a simple unprovoked ' F*** You ' by a country mile …

And with that, Angela & I caught each others eye and … bolted toward the door.

To say we started ' running ' down the hallway might be a wee bit of an exaggeration. But, whatever comes just before 'running ' … yeah, that's what we were doing.

“ OMG .. “ ' That dude .. wtf ? .. ' ' Whack a doodle doo.. ' & on and on.

Back and forth .. Forth and back ..

Until ..

' Hey .. what about you .. what's your story ?' I ask.

' Oh .. This .. Then .. Those .. A Smattering of The Other .. Etc. .. And .. More .. Yet .. More … “

The girl was a true Trip .. with a capital ' T ' no less. Evasive and furtive as one of the numerous mice I would see on a daily basis dancing through the halls of the esteemed Star Choice, but .. a Trip nonetheless.

Standing there in the alcove fashioned by the 2 slightly inset walls and the door to her room on the 4^th floor, I bring up the whole ' ease of parking ' idea and how ' this place is like the freeking Shining .. a bit creepy .. no one else ever around.'

Ha .. I can still picture her .. bent over with laughter .. her long thick hair nearly touching the floor. And it was that exact instant when .. one feeling led the the next to the next to the next .. lighting up my imagination like Christmas Eve .. illuminating just one single thought : ' I've got to have this girl. '

The days .. nights .. moved on from there. She & I seeing each other .. initially keeping our individual rooms … while getting to know each other .. better and better and more and more and …

OMG ! Her quicksilver, pure child-like, explosive – no less – persona … from sedate to irate in the time it takes to turn a smile into a frown.

Flashing me back to my childhood. My family .. aunts .. uncles .. children .. children of children of same .. celebrating the 4^th of July at my Aunt Kathy's in Canada. Culminating the evening with a solid half hour of fireworks : ' Ohhhh – Ahhh ' so we all would chant somewhat .. but only somewhat .. facetiously as they lit up the night sky with their multi-hued orgasms.

Earlier in the evening, shopping for same, asking the man at the little side of the road shack ' What does this one do ? '

No preamble. No in-depth esoteric vagaries. No hesitation.

It goes : ' Zip – A – Bang '

'Zip – A – Bang '

That was my Angela : no less than the personification of fireworks in the night sky .. ' Zip – A – Bang '

In both bad ways and good. If nothing else, she wouldn't leave anyone wondering what she may have thought about either this , that or the other potentially misinterpreted gesture on the part of a friend.

Funny. Clever. Ridiculously .. if not bizarrely .. gifted.

Had this odd gift of mimicking voices .. an absolute Spot On Bart Simpson & his Butterfinger.

Ha .. and me ? She did me better than I do me. New Yoyk accent and all. Find something funny and she'd throw it back to me tenfold .. in ten different ways. Each one more convoluted and hysterical than the previous.

And .. numbers ? Two looks at a 16-digit phone card and she's got it down.

Yeah .. I'm finding .. the girl is off the charts .. in innumerable ways .. most likely a bonafide card carrying member of the international ' Savants R Us ' club.

And, so I was finding, behind the scenes, as equally troubled as any garden-variety savant tends to be.

Initially, on my end it was so .. just flat out surreal .. such a departure from ' normal ' life and the way most people live same as to border on no less than being incomprehensible. As Mr. Purple Rhino visits again .. this time sporting top hat and cane while offering his rendition of The Beatles intentionally obscure ' I Am The Walrus.' … Goo .. Goo .. Goo .. Joob …

Initially I tried sympathy. Empathy. A sincere ' I'll help you in any way possible.' ' Let's go to a meeting.' ' I love you .. please let me help.' And any and all variations, permutations which popped into my head to offer.

But as it was being proven to me over and over and over again .. Our Love / Our sincere thanks to the Gods of Serendipity who brought us together .. our mutual : ' I so adore your mind .. your being .. your body .. your flat out : everything …

As powerful .. as comforting .. as heartfelt .. as were these thoughts and feelings … they were no match for the allure .. the poisonous, insatiable all invasive pull of crack cocaine.

Having never been exposed to same, I had no concept of its innate power. It's inherent ability to distill

someone's existence down to its very essence .. their life / being / soul .. squeezed into a standard manila envelope. Scrawled on the outside : ' Mine.' Signed, The Devil.

But that's pretty much exactly what it did. No more :

• teasing .. laughing .. mimicking voices
• dinners .. movies .. other choices

And instead .. Way more :

• stealing .. manipulating .. obfuscating .. lying
• me .. her family .. reduced to nothing but crying

Nothing could compete with the sadness .. the travesty .. the out and out heartbreak ..

Thinking of .. ' what could have been .' But .. no longer remained an option. For a couple of reasons. One being .. I moved back to Buffalo.

Two being : A missed call from your mother one day. “ Peter, give me a call. It's about Angela. '

That second, I knew : It was all over. You had lost the fight.

I'll never forget you, Angie. You will forever remain ' One of a Kind ' in my mind. And I can only pray you've found the Peace & Love which so alluded you while you were here.

Zip – A – Bang ...

Love,

Peter