Village of the Dam

 Ah, the early 90s. Where did you go as a teenager, when you had no money, only half of you had cars, and you lived in a dull suburb of St. Louis?

Well, for the most part we'd hang out at each other's houses. Where we would go was usually based on a highly scientific formula of whose parents were the least sick of us hanging around. Looking back, I feel my friends spent an inordinate amount of time at my house, because A) my parents were saints, and B) my sister was cute.

Of course, you could only play video games and watch movies so much. And for those nights, there was always Taco Bell. You could get an entre and a soda back then for about three bucks, and they'd hardly be offended by a group of rowdy teen boys taking up a table.

Of course, some nights we really wanted to splurge. We'd head on over to Steak & Shake (this was before they became a corporate MAGA cheerleader) or Denny's. 

The night of the extra cheese:

It was 1993. I was a college freshman and a bunch of us ended up at Denny's. We sat down and gave our drink orders. Shortly after, the manager showed up and told us the waitress had reported that a bunch of young people had sat down and many of us had ordered water, and that if we weren't ALL planning on eating, we needed to leave. A friend named Stephanie (who was probably 19 at the time) stood up and loudly told the manager that she and a lot of our friends were from East Alton, Illinois, and that because of the recent flood they had not had drinkable water at home for quite some time, and we certainly did not need to justify our drink orders. 

He left us alone after that. However, his attitude didn't sit right with me. I had been planning on ordering a meal, but just to be spiteful, I scoured the menu for the absolute cheapest thing. Applesauce, 75 cents? Oh, wait...extra cheese, 50 cents.

And that's what I ordered. And they brought it to me. A slice of American cheese on a plate. I ate it with a fork and a knife. Ten percent was a standard tip at the time, but I left a whole dollar. People still bring up my audacity.

However, there is one special place that I'll always remember, even more so than the Cave Springs Denny's or Joe's basement. Out in the tiny speed trap town of Winfield, Missouri, there was a little lock and dam that spanned the Cuvier River.  We'd head out there every few weeks to light a campfire and spin tales. It's where Paul almost lost an eye when he threw that aerosol can of Cheez Wiz into the fire. It's where Jeff taught me how to smoke cigars. Where Bobby and Jenn first hooked up. Where I made out with Katherine. Where we'd fantasize about the future.

The dam made it into my first book, 'Playing With Matches.'

I wish I'd taken pictures.