Chapter Twenty-Six - Norfolk Exile Pt. II

Into the Darkness

I had a fairly long interview with Frank. He asked me about my likes and dislikes, my plans for the future, my time in military school. Since I had no real job history to speak of, he wanted to get to know me to see if I could hang around long enough to be worth the trouble to train. I found out later that the moment he saw my birth date he knew he should hire me. Frank was a Rosicrucian, a believer in mystic connections."Something" told him that hiring me to this job would be a very beneficial thing to do. He assumed it was to his benefit, but things didn't turn out that way.

I was shown around and finally found out what a "platform operator" was. They needed somebody to run an automated film processing machine. The "platform" part was the front end of the machine, which was slightly elevated, so I would have to take a couple of steps up to get to it. Frank showed me the inner room, where spiced reels of undeveloped film were passed through the wall into a dark chamber. From there the operator would clip the roll onto a long strand of plastic film called "leader" and it would be pulled through the chemistry on rollers until coming out on the end and passing along to the printers.

"By the way, you load the film onto the machine in total darkness." Frank said.

"I thought you used red lights in the darkroom."

Turns out that doesn't work on color film. So I had to learn to work blind. Great.

Not a Good Start

After a couple of weeks I got pretty good at running the film processing machine. When a reel ran out, the tension on the strand would cause a platform to rise until it tripped an alarm. I then had 30 seconds to clip a fresh reel to the end or run some more leader film. While it was boringly routine, it was also nerve-wracking. The stupid alarm bell was like the kind at school, and it would ring continuously until I clipped on the new film and let the tension out slowly. Too slowly, the platform would continue to rise and hit the shutoff switch, stranding film in the developer. Too fast, and the platform would crash to the floor, twisting the film and getting it all tangled up. One night I was putting a new reel on when it slipped out of my hand and rolled across the floor. I felt around in the darkness, going from corner to corner with no luck. I knew I couldn't turn on the light, as that would expose the undeveloped film. So I hit on a new plan: Light a match. I figured the light would be too dim to cause any problem. Tiny flame in hand, I looked around the darkroom. There was the reel, tucked between a box and the wall. I took a second to observe the film strand winding its way around the rollers and into the chemistry before loading up the prodigal reel.

Not long after that it became apparent there was a problem. The film strand winding its way into the lighted drying cabinet looked...funny. Instead of its usual brownish tint, it was all green! Uh-oh. Many questions were asked. I knew nothing...nothing! I sure as hell was not going to tell them I had lit a match in the darkroom and for sure lose my job. Frank tried everything to duplicate the result but never came close. In the end I was written up for "operator error" and kept my job. It reinforced that idea that in a pinch I could still lie my way out of trouble. Great.

The only other notable experience I had was with a woman who worked with me. Her name was Mary Jones, and she was about five years older than me, though her past heroin addiction made her look like a slightly strung-out Bonnie Raitt. Now. In 2008. In the long run our relationship was a matter of how long she could control me and still screw around with other guys. That came to an end not long after my birthday in February of 1977.

Surprise

I came back to Northern Virginia for my birthday to see the folks and visit friends. The photo lab had cut our hours back and I was living on about $50 a week. There were times when I would wait until nobody was home at the frat house and go into the kitchen to raid other guys' food. Always just a bit from this one and a bit from that. A spoonful of peanut butter. A handful of raisins. A packet of oatmeal. I was deeply ashamed that I had to resort to that kind of behavior. One day I was truly starving and had 60 cents to my name and no cigarettes. Food or smokes? To screw up a Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers phrase: "Food will get you through times of no smokes better than smokes will get you through times of no food." I bought two bags of popcorn and that was my three squares that day. I actually know what it's like to wake up in the morning and wonder if I will eat that day. It sucked, and something had to change.

After the formalities of dinner with the family I went over to Vienna to see my good buddies. I had been given directions to an apartment rented by a girl I knew at Madison, Pam Drennan. I had had a crush on her in my sophomore year but she never really suspected anything. When the door opened everyone yelled "surprise!" as I stood there, shocked. I really hadn't expected it to be a party for me, but hey, let's do it!

This was the first time I had Tequila Sunrises, and I drank them down like water. Before long I found myself on the couch talking to a very attractive girl named Lynn who thought I was the most interesting and funny guy. As it got later, people started trailing away or going into other rooms. Lynn and I were there alone. And in the deep, dark hours of the night I got my last, best birthday present of the day. Oh, yeah. Mary who?

27:'77