Here is the complete collection of all of the Crazy Dating Stories books in one anthology. If you like reading about true stories about dates from hell, then you’re in for a treat. I dare you not to laugh at these insane tales from my life in the dating world over the last 30 years.
Sometimes funny, sometimes stomach-churning, it’s all here in its uncensored glory for your reading pleasure! You’ve been warned!
In “CRAZY DATING STORIES,” embark on a rollercoaster journey through the unpredictable landscape of modern romance. Brace yourself for a whirlwind of hilarious mishaps, unexpected connections, and jaw-dropping encounters that will leave you laughing, cringing, and nodding in empathetic understanding.
As our intrepid author navigates the wild world of dating, you’ll find yourself immersed in tales of comical misunderstandings, awkward encounters, and heartwarming moments of connection. From disastrous blind dates to unexpected serendipity, these stories will have you questioning the very nature of love and human connection. But “CRAZY DATING STORIES” isn’t just about the misadventures; it’s a journey of self-discovery.
Along the way, you’ll witness our author’s growth, resilience, and the enduring hope that keeps them diving headfirst into the dating pool, no matter how many curveballs life throws their way.
So, prepare to laugh, gasp, and perhaps even shed a tear as you delve into the pages of this candid, entertaining, and ultimately heartwarming collection of dating escapades. “CRAZY DATING STORIES” is a testament to the enduring spirit of those who dare to seek love in the face of chaos.
You can get it here:
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Thanks to the brave souls who bought this hilarious book!
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In the intricate tapestry of human experiences, there exists an insatiable quest for that initial rush—the exhilarating sensation that first painted the canvas of our memories with vibrant hues. A journey marked by cigarettes on balconies, youthful infatuation, and the indescribable euphoria that lingers in our minds. As we peel back the layers of our desires, we delve into the essence of why humans are drawn to intoxication and elation, exploring the unique journey that sets us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom.
The Elixir of Innocence
Within our earliest moments, a symphony of emotions greets us—joy, wonder, and discovery. It’s the pure elixir of innocence that creates a unique imprint in our minds. Whether it’s the enchantment of a first kiss or the warmth of familial bonds, that rush remains etched in the corridors of our consciousness.
The Chemical Whirlwind
Our minds and bodies react to stimuli in fascinating ways. With the onset of adolescence, a storm of changes and chemical reactions unfolds. The allure of indulgence becomes palpable, mirrored in the allure of substances that promise to recreate or enhance that elusive sensation—the very essence of a first kiss or a memorable moment with friends and family.
Chasing the Unattainable
With age, the memory of that initial rush becomes a beacon. People gravitate toward experiences that echo the whispers of euphoria that once danced through their veins. Whether it’s alcohol’s liberation from inhibitions or the mind-expanding allure of substances, the pursuit of that first spark becomes a lifelong odyssey.
Humans and Their Complicated Desires
But why do humans, unlike many animals, seek these altered states of consciousness? The answer may lie in our complex psychology. Our brains are wired to grasp at the threads of elation, to explore uncharted territories, and to savor the sweet nectar of novel experiences. It’s an intricate dance between the rewards of our neurotransmitters and the desires that shape our choices.
The Eternal Quest
In the corridors of time, humans continue to chase that intoxicating feeling—the rush of something new and unexplored. Whether it’s the first cigarette, the enigmatic allure of love, or the innocence of a debut kiss, these moments remain etched in the annals of our memories.
An Odyssey of Sensation
As we navigate life’s labyrinth, it’s clear that the pursuit of that original, pure feeling is an integral part of the human experience. The allure of the novel, the intoxicating, and the ecstatic guides us through an odyssey of sensation. Perhaps it’s this very pursuit that propels us forward, forever chasing the echoes of euphoria from moments long past—a reminder that in the kaleidoscope of our desires, the rush of the new remains an eternal beacon.
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During the holiday hustle and bustle, a timeless Christmas tradition warms both hearts and spirits—the age-old practice of making and serving Old Tom and Jerry’s. This classic winter cocktail, with its rich history and comforting flavors, brings a touch of nostalgia to festive gatherings and cozy evenings by the fireplace.
Old Tom and Jerry’s, not to be confused with the cartoon characters, is a warm and indulgent beverage that traces its roots back to the 19th century. This holiday concoction typically features a blend of warm milk, beaten eggs, sugar, and a medley of spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. The result is a frothy, flavorful drink that embodies the essence of the season.
Crafting this festive libation is not just about mixing ingredients; it’s a cherished ritual often involving special family recipes passed down through generations. The process begins with carefully preparing a batter, usually made by whipping together egg yolks, sugar, and a symphony of spices until the mixture achieves a light and fluffy consistency.
Once the batter is ready, it’s time to assemble the drink. A generous dollop of the batter is added to a mug or glass, followed by a combination of hot milk and your favorite spirit, often rum or brandy. The result is a comforting, velvety elixir that radiates warmth and holiday cheer.
Part of the charm of Old Tom and Jerry’s lies in the communal aspect of serving and enjoying the beverage. It’s not uncommon for families and friends to gather around a crackling fire, each holding a mug of this winter elixir as they share stories, laughter, and the joy of the season.
In a world where holiday traditions evolve and new trends emerge, Old Tom and Jerry’s stands as a delightful link to the past. It offers a taste of history and a connection to simpler times when the holiday season was celebrated with homemade treats and genuine warmth.
So, this holiday season, consider adding a touch of nostalgia to your festivities by resurrecting the tradition of making and serving Old Tom and Jerry’s. Whether you’re following a cherished family recipe or creating your own spin on this classic beverage, the experience is sure to evoke the timeless spirit of Christmas and create lasting memories for years to come.
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Philadelphia, a city known for its iconic cheesesteak sandwiches, has taken its love for this classic dish to a whole new level with the introduction of the “Cheesesteak Martini” at Round House. This inventive libation combines the flavors of a classic Philly cheesesteak with the sophistication of a martini, offering an exciting culinary experience. In this blog post, we’ll explore the creation and unique features of this first-of-its-kind martini that is capturing the hearts and taste buds of Philadelphians.
To complete the experience, the Cheesesteak Martini is garnished with precision. A crouton, cherry tomato, and pearl onion add a touch of gourmet flair to the drink. This attention to detail elevates the overall experience, making it not just a drink but a culinary adventure.
Born from Eagles Fandom
The genesis of the Cheesesteak Martini is rooted in the passion for Philadelphia’s beloved football team, the Eagles. Torin Hofmann, the bar manager at Round House, shared that the drink originated as a shot, specifically crafted to celebrate Eagles games. As an ardent Eagles fan, he found it fitting to create a libation that combines two of Philly’s greatest loves: cheesesteaks and football. It’s a tribute to the team and a unique way to enjoy game days.
Exclusive to Eagles Games
If you’re intrigued by the idea of sipping a Cheesesteak Martini, there’s one catch—it’s exclusively available during Eagles games. The drink, priced at $13, is a delightful companion for watching the Eagles in action. Round House, conveniently located off Main Street in Landsdale, has become a destination for Eagles fans and food enthusiasts alike.
Conclusion
The Cheesesteak Martini at Round House is a testament to Philadelphia’s unwavering love for its culinary heritage and football tradition. This unique libation embodies the city’s spirit, capturing the essence of the iconic cheesesteak in a sophisticated martini. Whether you’re a fan of the Eagles, a food enthusiast, or simply someone seeking a novel culinary experience, the Cheesesteak Martini is a must-try. It’s a flavorful and spirited tribute to Philly’s rich culture and an exciting addition to the city’s diverse culinary landscape. So, during the next Eagles game, raise your glass of Cheesesteak Martini and cheer, “Go Birds!”
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Prepare to step into a world of enchantment, mystery, and spine-tingling thrills as we present to you the most anticipated Halloween extravaganza of the year: All Hallows’ Dream.
Mark your calendars for October 13th, a date that brings a double dose of eeriness as it falls on a Friday the 13th. The stage is set at the sensational Redwine Nightclub, located at 701 Adams Ave, in Philadelphia. Prepare for an unforgettable night from 6pm to 2am.
A Costume Soiree Like No Other
Dress to impress in your most captivating, mysterious, or spine-chilling costume, and be a part of the prized costume contest! All Hallows’ Dream invites you to explore the depths of your imagination and embody your alter ego for a night of pure enchantment.
A Lineup to Haunt Your Dreams
Prepare for jaw-dropping entertainment as our featured music acts take the stage. You’ll be captivated with energetic performances by:
Big Breakfast X Ayashi
Deathstare & friends
Reek Hellasmoke
KAT Seventeen
Azurro
From music that will make your heart race to mesmerizing visual spectacles, each act promises to transport you to a realm where fantasy and reality collide.
Spectacles Beyond Imagination
At All Hallows’ Dream, surprises await at every corner. Be dazzled by live circus acts that defy gravity and logic, be enchanted by fire performers who ignite the night’s vibrant spirit, and be mesmerized by artists who turn visions into tangible wonders. From aerialists to dancers who move with an otherworldly grace, prepare to be amazed. Circus acts include:
Carbonation Circus (fire acts)
Cirqueer Productions + Shay Au Lait (aerials)
Jewlissa (burlesque)
A Night of Feasting and Merriment
Indulge your senses with a delectable array of food and drinks provided by Redwine, available throughout the night. A tasty offering of bar treats, large dinner plates, and bewitching beverages. Additionally, there will be 6 unique craft vendors, selling various wares. Trendy tie-dye clothing, handmade accessories, artist prints, and even a spot to get your teeth blinged out with a licensed dental technician! Vendors include:
Live2Dye Designs
Sweet Peach Gems
Kristin Koefoed (live painting + prints)
fleshmural
Gemini Mxr
Swamp Dragon Creations
21+ Enchantment
Please note that All Hallows’ Dream is an exclusive 21+ event. Valid ID is required for entry, ensuring a safe night of mature celebration.
Tickets and Information
Secure your passage into the night of a lifetime by purchasing your tickets in advance. Visit Eventbrite to get your hands on $20 general admission tickets. Stay connected and updated by following us on @allhallowsdream Instagram page for more updates + info. Don’t miss out on the spookiest and most sensational Halloween celebration of the year. Gather your friends, put on your most enchanting costume, and step into a realm where dreams and reality intertwine.
All Hallows’ Dream awaits, and it’s time to let your imagination run wild!
*Disclaimer: The event details mentioned in this blog post are based on the information provided by the organizer, CarbonKitty. Please verify all details, including the date, time, location, and lineup, before making any arrangements.
Note:I won’t be able to attend this event but I’ll be there in spirit to support my daughter in her first big event!
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NOTE: THIS STORY IS NOT IN MY LATEST BOOK, DOWN THE SHORE.
Wildwood, NJ – 1985-1986
I had been working at Home Video Centers in Northfield, NJ for two years. It was a fun job and the people I worked with were cool. But at some point, I could see the writing on the wall. A small privately-owned audio/video store would soon suffer the fate of many small businesses. Companies like Circuit City, and Silo could sell the same cameras and VCRs for much less than we could due to volume.
Also… Blockbuster Video was about to become the next big thing.
At some point, someone had the brilliant idea to start selling white goods in the video store. I could see this was the beginning of the end. Who goes into a video store to buy a washer, dryer, or refrigerator? Nobody I know.
The pressure was getting to me and I reached a point of frustration so I quit. But I was 23 years old without another job lined up. I was still living with my parents so at least I had a roof over my head.
I was unemployed for about a week when my father got me a job at his favorite liquor store in Somer’s Point. It was called Circle Liquor and was one of the most profitable liquor stores on the east coast. It was in a great location nestled between the resort/retirement communities of Ocean City and Margate. Ocean City was a dry town, (no alcohol was sold in the town) so everybody got their beer, wine, and liquor at our store.
It was an okay job. Running the register and stocking the shelves were my primary duties. I was settling into a life of mediocrity at this point.
There was also an interesting cast of characters that worked there. First, there was the owner, who was a nice guy who was rich and drunk most of the time. There was the general manager who was a vacant old guy who dyed his hair and was a retail loser. He may have owned part of the store but I’m not sure. I do know he had this twenty-something weird daughter who would just come into the store and take money out of the registers to go shopping. I know it sounds mean but she seemed like an inbred semi-retarded person. Just awful. There was another guy who was in his twenties but looked older, named Bill. He was a nice guy but it just seemed like there was a black cloud hanging over his head. We started to refer to him as “the black cloud.”
Then there was this little fat sloppy guy named Chester. Chester was a nice guy who had formerly been a blackout drunk but got his act together. He was the manager of the store and dedicated his life to the place. He knew everything about every bottle of wine and booze in the store. I’ve never met another person who knew so much about wine in my life.
So, I worked there and had a pretty decent time. I met this new hire named Ferdinand who was a real character. He was a tall, good-looking guy who floated through life without a care in the world. He had a nice apartment down at the beach in Ocean City and had a hot girlfriend. The reason Ferd didn’t care about anything was that his father owned a trucking firm. He had passed away and left his family a fortune. His Will stated that Ferd would get his inheritance when his younger sister turned 30 so he was just biding his time working jobs until his ship came in. So, he didn’t care about anything but having a good time.
I remember we once got all these cases of wines that came in wooden cases. The boxes were cool because they were rustic but sturdy and could be used for other things once you removed the bottles from them. They could be made into bookcases, storage boxes, or containers to hold your music cassettes and videotapes.
Chester said that if we wanted any of the empty wooden cases we could have them because they were only going to be broken down and thrown away. But Ferd came up with the brilliant idea of taking some of the wooden cases at the end of his shift. But the thing was, he would fill them with bottles of wine and liquor before carrying them out to his car. He must have quietly stolen dozens of bottles of liquor out of Circle Liquor without anyone ever catching on.
I was still very much suffering from my failure as a musician and in life in general and just went through the motions of working there. During the holidays we would get tons of liquor gift sets in and I’ve never seen a store with so many varieties in all my life.
The money was rolling in from Thanksgiving through New Year and the place was always busy. People would pull up to the store and order tons of stuff and it was our job to carry all of the cases and bags out to their cars. Just crap labor. Sometimes they’d give you a tip so that was cool, but it was grinding work. I think the more mundane the work, and the age of the staff, there are going to be hijinks.
When it was cold out and we had to run back and forth carrying stuff out to people’s cars we’d open miniature bottles back in the warehouse and take sips from them to keep warm. But by the end of your shift, you were half in the bag. Oh, and speaking of the warehouse in the back… it was an absolute disaster back there. The place was an absolutely unmade bed. Boxes are strewn everywhere and just a mess back there. They had no idea how much or little they had due to the crazy volume the store did day in and day out. It was pretty easy to clip the occasional bottle if you could figure out how to get it out the door. Ferd exploited this. I never did.
Eventually, because I was doing a good job, they put me in charge of the imported beer section. Now, this was the mid-80s and fancy beer wasn’t a thing back then like it is today. So the section of the store I managed was simply an end cap. A section at the end of one of the aisles is about 7 feet tall by 5 feet wide. But the area where all of the excess stock was stored in the warehouse I made my own. It was the only section of the entire warehouse that was organized. I took pride in my little section and kept it neat.
Along the back was the cold box. Door after door of flow racks of beer. Hundreds of cases and six-packs kept cold in a giant walk-in refrigerator. It was massive. Many times during the last hour of my shift I would go in there and stock up on the six-packs. There was a teenage kid who would come in around 4 pm and that was his job for the evening. He kept his winter coat on and just stayed inside the giant refrigerated walk-in all night.
Sometimes at the end of my shift, I’d go in there and help him if I didn’t have anything else to do and chat with him about music. We’d even have the occasional cigarette in there. Sometimes Ferd would join us and he’d grab a couple of cans of whip cream and do whip its. That was always good for a laugh.
The move the teenager used to make was this. While loading all of the flow racks with beer he had to break down a lot of the cardboard cases the beer came in. They were tossed into a dumpster out in the back of the store. But there was a big door that led from the giant walk-in fridge to the parking lot.
So during his shift, he would take a couple of cases of beer and put them out back under a pile of broken-down cardboard boxes. It was wintertime so the beer stayed cold and hidden.
After he finished his shift he’d drive by with his friends and they’d pick up the free cases of beer from out back of the store and no one was ever the wiser. I don’t know how long he did this but it was a great way to get free beer for underage kids.
I never participated in any of this criminal behavior that was going on throughout the store for years because no one was paying any attention. I would just have the occasional pony bottle Lowenbrau at the end of my shift in there with this guy.
More next week!
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My buddy Frank and I were having the time of our lives living out in LA. We both worked but obviously at such a young age, (me 19, and Frank, 21) we didn’t make much money. But when we had a little extra cash we’d head out to a bar or nightclub to mix and mingle with the locals.
One of our favorite spots was right in our own neighborhood. Madam Wong’s West. Esther Wong was a famous venue owner and music promoter in LA. She had a spot in Chinatown and another one in Santa Monica.
We had some great success on our first excursion out to that club when we met and bedded the Yamamato sisters. We were still sort of dating them both but still enjoyed the LA nightlife and all the deviltry it had to offer.
One night we were sitting in a booth sipping our beers and checking out some of the local bands that were playing there. The main band that was playing upstairs wasn’t all that notable. They were a hard rock act called Dubrow which I thought was a horrible name for a band.
I later learned that they were called something else but gave up the name after their spectacular guitarist quit the band to go work for a more well-known musician.
Years later I discovered that the guy who was the singer in the band we saw that night at Madam Wong’s was named Kevin Dubrow, hence the name of the band. Seems a bit egotistical based on how he appeared marginally talented as a singer and frontman. I also found out that the former name of that band when their extraordinary guitarist was in it was Quiet Riot.
The news about how this guitarist was now playing in Ozzy Osborne’s band was a much talked about subject. Randy Rhoads was always called “former guitarist for Quiet Riot.” So the singer, Kevin Dubrow decided to capitalize on this information and changed the name of his band back to Quiet Riot. It was fun finding all of this information out later and knowing I saw them when they were just a bar band that nobody cared about back in 1982.
They did okay after changing their name back to Quiet Riot.
Sadly, Kevin passed away at age 52 from an overdose of alcohol and painkillers. I’m glad I didn’t follow the same rock and roll path and end up with a similar fate.
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In part 1 of this post I talked about how I was hanging out with my friend James one night and we were checking out my small booze collection. I showed him the Macallan 17 and how I knew it was worth $400 but there was another bottle of Macallan I had that I knew nothing about.
It will help with continuity if you read the previous post first. It’s right here:
Turns out it was a special commemorative bottle that was given to employees during the celebration of the Edrington acquisition of Macallan from Remy Cointreau. That was back in 2014 and the scotch inside the bottle was fresh. So basically, it wasn’t worth anything. It was just a nice little treat they made for the staff and gave them out.
I’m assuming most people just cracked them and drank them because they were worthless. And that’s what I thought about the bottle I had that was sitting on a shelf for the last five years.
But James looked it up on the internet and said it had gone for around $6000 in an auction a year or so ago.
I was stunned. This bottle was given to me by a guy I once knew who had quit drinking and gave me around a dozen bottles of his booze.
I started to do some research and found it’s not easy to sell a bottle of booze. There are all sorts of laws about trading alcohol, shipping, customs, taxes, auction rules, percentages, and fees.
I didn’t want to deal with the hassle of having to find some company that would want it, figure out how to ship it, and take all of those risks. I read about how there’s a lot of fraud in that business.
So I took some photos of the bottle and sent them to some brokers that deal in the sale of collectible booze. I heard back from most of them rather quickly when they saw what I had.
One of them offered me $150 for it because they thought I didn’t know what I had and they wanted to rip me off. But I was wise to all of these guys.
I’ve collected comic books in the past and I know all about buying and selling valuable objects of antiquity. Just ask my older sister about when we went to a train show and blew out thousands of dollars worth of toy trains from my father’s estate.
I spoke to several brokers looking for the easiest and most profitable way to move this bottle. I knew the bottle could sell at auction because it was rare and some collectors of Macallan would want this rare piece for their collection. Not because the scotch it contained was aged or even good. It was just a rare sealed bottle that was hard to find. So it wasn’t about its contents. It was simply a rare unopened bottle in mint condition in its original box.
I know how brokers work. They make a deal knowing they have people in their sphere of influence that are willing to pay more for what they have.
I don’t have that luxury. I have nothing invested in this bottle. I haven’t spent one cent on it. I acquired it in a box of other stuff I thought had more value. It was simply a fluke and a moment of unexpected luck.
I knew I wouldn’t get $6000 for it but I didn’t care.
Nothing invested. Free bottle. Take the money.
I made the arrangements with a broker and he drove down one Saturday from New York. I decided to meet him at the hardware store because I didn’t know this guy. I figured I had the guys I worked with there, and the place is surrounded by CCTV cameras. There would be no funny stuff and the broker would be on my turf.
The guy arrived and I brought him inside. I asked him to follow me through the store. I took him down to the basement which must have made him a little nervous. It’s like an old cave down there. Dark and dank like a wine cellar.
I brought him back to the office and asked him to show me the money. He counted out 37 $100 bills and a $50. That’s $3,750 CASH. Tax-free invisible money. I handed him the bag with the bottle in its box and he opened it and looked it over. He was satisfied.
He even said that a bottle like this was a little difficult to sell because as he said, “the juice inside is worthless”. It’s not about the scotch for once. It’s simply a rare bottle that’s desirable to the right collector.
Or, did he say that to make me think the bottle was worth less than it actually was? It seemed like a broker trick. I worked in sales my whole life. I can spot all the tells.
I was happy. I had nearly four grand cash in my pocket and it was free money. I ran home and hid it in my apartment and returned to work.
So, you never know what you can find or acquire in your life, and can turn into cash.
On to the next adventure!
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When I originally wrote this post a year ago I still had some bitterness in me. It was Covid but I was grateful. My daughter and I got a year and a half off from work life to create. She made original music and I wrote books.
It was beautiful. It was exactly what we both needed.
I’ve edited the nonsense and bitterness out of this post to make it a bit more palatable to my readers. The original version seemed a bit callous and mean. Don’t worry, all the best parts are still in it, but it’s a little nicer.
I’ve learned that it isn’t what happens to you in life, it’s how you react to it that creates its value.
Anyway, I’m running low on content because I’m so buried in writing my new book, Down the Shore that I can think of little else.
But I’m determined to write a blog post a week to keep Phicklephilly going.
So here we go…
My friend James hit me up and wanted to hang out. We settled on a date to meet and set it up. We decided to check out the new Victory Brewery up on the parkway which is where the old TGIFridays was for years.
I’d been to the TGIFridays in the past and it was a good space. It had 2 levels and an outdoor patio. But many of these chain restaurants have left center city because the audience just isn’t there anymore. There are too many unique spots to drink and dine in the city and people are no longer interested in goofy theme restaurants.
I’m not a big beer drinker at all. I hardly drink at all anymore and just don’t see the benefit of it in my life. Why would I want something hard for my body to process and slow me down the next day?
But I do like a bottle of cold Victory Summer Love in the spring and summer months. It was an unseasonably comfortable March evening and I knew I’d be having one at Victory Brewery.
We get there around 7:30 and the place is packed. I’m feeling a little cranky when I get there because when we approach the hostess stand there’s some guy making it his life’s work to discuss something with her. Come on. Make your reservation or reserve your table and move on, clown. So James and I are rotting away in line behind this idiot.
We finally get up there and she tells us the wait for a table is 30 minutes. That’s cool. We’ll go have a beer at the bar and chat while we wait. We get our beers and head outside to the outdoor deck. There aren’t many people out there so we can grab a table and chat and enjoy our beers.
I realized that it was March Madness and that’s why the place is so busy on a Monday night. But the half-hour goes quickly and we get a little table. We both order Old Fashioneds and toast our night together.
The menu’s limited and is standard brewery fare so there aren’t many choices. That’s fine. James gets the burrito and I get a burger and fries. I rarely eat bread or refined carbs of any type now so anytime I’m out, (which is rare) I get something decadent and enjoy it as a treat.
James said his burrito was sub-par and I agree about my burger. It’s cooked one way and we’re eating low-level fast food. No big deal. We’re there to just check the place out and get some food in our bellies and chit-chat.
James brings up the subject of my freelance writing and I sort of go off. At this point, I’m frustrated that the business hasn’t grown in my favor. I started this gig with my former coworker and I feel like she’s hired numerous freelancers and she’s spreading the work among several of them. But I told her back in December that I needed to earn around $700 a month to get by and I thought we were clear on that fact. But I feel like I’ve been thrown scraps since the new year began. A couple of easy clients and crap articles for $30 apiece. I did 14 articles in January and didn’t make much money for all of my hard work.
I’ve written how I’ve been getting fed up with it and the moment I start earning more at the hardware store I’m probably going to either give up the freelancing or cut it way back. I get why she may be spreading the work over several writers, but I started this thing with her and I’ve written over 200 articles for her. Now I’m getting scraps.
So I went on a rage rant to James about my dissatisfaction with how this freelance writing gig has been going since its inception. It was the first time I talked about it with anyone and it came out as a rage fest. (I texted James the next morning and apologized) I wasn’t directing my anger at him, I was just stating the facts of my situation. Normally I’m calm and happy about everything, but it triggered me and I went off on a bit of a rant over our mediocre dinner. We both agreed we wouldn’t be returning to this place again. It’s just too basic and full of families and sports fans. If you want a better experience like that I would recommend Cavanaugh’s. The staff is on point, the food is great and so is the service. (But since they moved to their new location down the street, it lacks the spirit of the old place and we’re done with that joint too.)
James pays the bill, (Thanks, man!) and we leave. We walk south back down into the center city. We decide we want to stop for another cocktail and lift the evening a bit. But as we pass Rouge, Devon, and Parc in Rittenhouse we find that most of those places look like their closing. It’s around 10 pm now.
We figure we’ll hit up Pub and Kitchen or Lou Bird’s because those are a couple of bookend spots down in my neighborhood.
We get down there to 20th and Lombard and find that both places are dark and locked up tight. What the heck? Why is everything closed? But we quickly realize that after covid, many places are done on a Monday night by 10 pm.
We still want to hang out some more because there was still a lot to cover. After all, we only see each other every couple of months. I suggest we walk up to Food and Friends, make a six-pack of mixed beers and seltzers, and just go to my house.
Once we get back to my place we settle in, sip our drinks, and chat. I had one spiked seltzer and then switched over to plain seltzer. I just don’t like drinking alcohol anymore. For a guy who once drank lakes of vodka and oceans of chardonnay, it’s been a great change. I’ve been living a pretty clean life for the last few years and just enjoy feeling healthy and looking lean and fit.
We’re listening to some chill music and chatting about movies. The subject of my sparse liquor collection somehow comes up. I formerly had many bottles in my collection but I don’t have many in the house anymore.
Over 5 years ago I knew a guy that worked for Edrington Brands and was fired. He decided to get sober even though he didn’t have a drinking problem and gave me all of his liquor to get it out of his house.
At the time it was a nice collection of unique bottles of whiskey, rum, and vodka. I was grateful but ended up giving most of it away as gifts to others.
It was great that if I was invited to someone’s house, I could just grab a $40 bottle of booze from the collection and give it to them. The only bottles I kept were a Glenturret 27, a black grouse blend, a Macallan 17, and another bottle of Macallan with no vintage that I had never seen before but I was sure was worthless. (But Macallan is good scotch, so I kept it)
James is sitting there sipping his beer and I’m showing him a few of the bottles left in my tiny collection. I tell him the Macallan 17 is now worth $400 and I’ll probably crack it at my daughter’s wedding if she ever gets married.
He asks me about the other Macallan bottle and I tell him I don’t know what it is. I take it out of its box and let him check it out.
He looks it over and then goes on his phone in an attempt to figure out what it is. From the look of it, it appears to be a commemorative bottle that may have only been given to reps for the company or something. It doesn’t have a year on it and is wrapped in a Macallan and Edrington label with a blue ribbon around it with a red seal.
What James found on the internet was nothing short of astounding. Macallan was run and distributed through Remy Cointreau for years. Around 2014 Edrington Brands bought the brand and took over all distribution for Macallan across the globe. When that acquisition occurred they decided to make a special bottle of whiskey to commemorate the event. (Notice the statement on the label, Great People, Leading Brands, Giving More)
These bottles were specially designed to be filled with new whiskey and given to employees of the company at the event. The guy I once knew may have gone over to Scotland for this event but I’m not sure.
That’s why I figured the bottle was worthless. It isn’t aged whiskey even though it’s a great brand. They just grabbed some fresh booze and put it in commemorative bottles to celebrate the acquisition. Then handed these trinkets out to the staff that attended the event. That sort of thing happens all the time with brands.
But what James discovered is that it’s rumored that only 100 of these bottles were ever produced. To a person who collects Macallan scotch, they would probably want this for their collection. Not because it’s aged 10,12,15,17, 18, or 20 years, but because the bottle itself is rare.
James continues his search and finds that a bottle exactly like this one sold at auction for $6,000 in 2018.
WHAT???
The bottle I thought was worthless is now worth something to a collector right now.
So, I was blown away and elated that James had made this gesture of discovery. Thank you, Sherlock!
So, I’m going to have to decide what I’m going to do with this bottle that’s unopened, and in mint condition in its original box. It’s been sitting in a little cabinet in my bedroom for the last 5 years!
I love rare discoveries like this. I’ll probably sell it and take the cash because I don’t want to drink it. It’s not even aged whiskey. I’m sure it’s not very good, but I’d rather put it in the hands of someone who will appreciate it. (I did this with my comic book collection and my dad’s toy trains, so why not?) I made a bundle and plowed the cash into the stock market.
I’ll update the blog once the bottle is sold.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly.Â
Jack walked into the nightclub on Sunset Strip. He didn’t dread these meetings, he just never knew what to expect.
He spoke with security and told them he was there to see Marty. He gave the password, and they let him come into the private room in the back. Marty was there sitting at the bar sipping a glass of whiskey.
“Jack! Great to see you, buddy. It’s been too long. Have a seat. What are you drinking?”
“Nothing for me, thanks. What’s on your mind?”
“We’ve got a little situation. Everything’s fine right now, but we’ve heard some things from some of our contacts in Hawaii.”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“One of our people overheard a guy saying some things to his friends at a bar. We’ve had our eye on this guy for a while, and we think you should look into it.”
“Is there a file yet?”
Marty reached into a leather bag on the floor next to him and produced a folder. He handed it to Jack. He took the folder and flipped through it.
“Is this everything?”
“Well… it’s never everything, Jack. That’s why I called you. Read the file and get to know this individual. We’ve gathered as much intel on this guy’s background as possible. We just feel that things could escalate and that can’t happen.”
“What’s the fee?”
“The usual. But if things get sticky you’ll be compensated accordingly for any extra effort.”
“What’s the time frame on this?”
“Well, we know where he is right now and where he may be going, but not much else.”
“So you just want me to follow him?”
“Yea. Keep an eye on him.”
“We’ll give you his location and the details are in the file. If you want to talk with him at some point, that’s your call. But I really think this needs to be addressed sooner than later. There are a few of these types out there but usually, it never comes to anything. But this one’s got me nervous.”
“Do I need to know who the client is?”
“No. That’s why I brought you in, Jack. You’re good at helping people and doing the right thing when necessary.”
Jack looked at the file. “No previous criminal record. Interesting.”
“Yea. Could be nothing but the client doesn’t want to leave anything to chance.”
“How long’s the job?”
“Hard to say. Could be a month, maybe longer. We really don’t know.”
“Alright. Anything else?”
“Uh, yea. I want you to partner with Adhira.
“Come on. You know I only work alone, Marty.”
“Look… for this job I want you to have her with you. This way you won’t stand out too much.”
“Oh, okay… me and some hot Indian chick. Yea, I won’t stand out at all.”
“You two have worked well together in the past and I think while you’re traveling it’ll just look less conspicuous if it looks like you’re a couple. As I said, this all could turn out to be nothing, but it’s for the best if Adhira is with you.”
“Fine. So what’s next?”
“Here are your tickets to Honolulu. Adhira’s already there. She’ll pick you up at the airport.”
“Okay. You got it.”
Honolulu, HI – September 1980
As night fell on the island, Jack and Adhira had dinner at Roy’s Hawaii Kai.
“Food’s great here, Jack. Remember when we worked that surveillance gig back in’78?”
“Yea. That was a crazy time, Adhira. It’s been two years. You still look the same.”
“You look a little tired, Jack. Have you read the file?”
“Probably jet lag that’s all. Yea, I read it on the plane on the way out. The guy seems a bit nuts but I don’t see the urgency here.”
“Well, if Marty hired you it must mean something. Hey…how bad is your life? You’re in Hawaii for goodness’ sake.”
“Yea, but why are you here, Adhira?”
“Oh, thanks a lot, Jack. Way to make a girl feel welcome.”
“You know what I mean. I always work alone. I just like it that way. Free to move around how and when I want.”
“Marty just thought that for this sort of job, you could use a little company on the road. You know my skills. One of them is to keep whoever I’m with calm and centered. And you know how you you can be.”
“How can I be, Adhira?”
“A little intense. You tend to get a little obsessed with the work sometimes. I’m here to provide you with a bit of balance.”
“Did Marty tell you that about me?”
“There are files on all of us, Jack. Now eat your butterfish.”
Jack grinned and took a mouthful. He looked into Adhira’s dark eyes. She smiled and sipped her wine. He always wondered how such a beautiful woman could end up working at the agency. Her lovely face was framed by raven tresses that tumbled about her shoulders like a moonless river.
“So what’s your take on this guy, Jack?”
“Well, as I said, he seems a little nuts. Textbook upbringing. His father was a sergeant in the air force, and his mom was a nurse. Dad was a little abusive to his mom and he never felt like his old man loved him. That sounds like my family. What son hasn’t thought that about their father?”
“Yea, and he wasn’t athletic in school and sort of a poor student. Kind of a loser.” Adhira frowned.
“Yea, kind of like me. But then there’s all the religious stuff he’s gotten into. I think that’s where the real trouble usually starts. People get these righteous ideas, and some can get a little fanatical about that. My ex-wife was religious and she had a lot of good intentions… if you get what I mean.”
“Yea. The road to hell is paved with them. I get it. He did have some early success working at that kid’s camp in Georgia. Maybe he should have just kept doing that.”
“But I think as he’s gotten older he’s started to unravel a bit. I don’t know what happens to some people. Most of us get disillusioned and sad about stuff, but we move on. Then there are other people who just can’t seem to pull themselves out of it. It’s a shame really.”
Did you see in the file how he started to get into these altercations with the camp counselors and can’t seem to fit in anywhere?”
“Right. Which for some odd reason brings him out here. Kinda weird. It’s expensive to live on this island. It’s a resort. Then he attempts suicide by asphyxiation in his car, but screws that up too when the hose he stuck on the exhaust pipe melts, and he survives. Some people move to California thinking they’ll start a new life. But like the Joad family in The Grapes of Wrath, it’s just the last exit for the lost. But why Hawaii to kill yourself?”
“Maybe to die in paradise? Didn’t they give him a job at the mental hospital they stuck him in after his attempted suicide?”
“Yea, but then he got into an altercation with the head nurse and quit. I think the last job he held was as a security guard. Funny how he’s good with the kids at the camp, then works at a hospital, and then in security. It’s like he’s always working in jobs that serve and protect human life. But then he starts drinking, and that’s never a good thing if you’re suffering from mental illness.”
“I think it’s only made his obsessions worse.”
“Yea, booze makes you feel better in the beginning… but after a while, it sledgehammers everything else in your life.”
“Speaking from personal experience, Jack?”
“What do you think?”
Manhattan, NY – December 1980
Jack and Adhira sat in their agency-issued vehicle in front of the hotel where their subject was staying.
“We’ve been on this job for a couple of months and although I’ve enjoyed our time together, Jack. I don’t know what to think now.”
“Yea… He goes to New York, and he wanders around the city and not much else. Then he leaves. We follow him to Atlanta, he meets with a friend and then he’s back in Hawaii. Now here we are back in New York again. It’s just weird. But I believe he’s still thinking about doing something.”
December 7, 1980
Jack and Adhira followed their subject as he walked around the city. Keeping a close tail but far enough away to seem inconspicuous. It was pretty easy in a city as populated as Manhattan. They were standing near the 72nd Street subway entrance when they saw their subject speak to someone for the first time since they’d been following him.
“Jack…look. He’s talking to that guy over there. I wonder what that’s all about? Planning something with him?”
“I don’t know, but doesn’t that guy look like the singer, James Taylor? It’s uncanny.”
“Yea, that’s funny. He really does look like him. Let’s just stay close.”
December 8
It was early morning. Jack and Adhira sat in a cafe across the street from the Sheraton Hotel. They watched as their subject walked out of the hotel lobby.
“He’s on the move. Let’s go.”
They followed him to a local bookstore. He was inside for a few minutes and then exited the store. They again followed him to 72nd Street just off Central Park. He just hung out in front of a large apartment building chatting with people and the doorman. Jack watched from across the street and Adhira went to get the car.
They later sat in the car parked nearly in front of the building. Watching their subject just hanging around the entrance.
“This is boring, Jack. He’s just standing around. He’s not doing anything. Maybe his connection is late or something. This doesn’t make sense. All we’ve seen is a guy chatting with people, and that one lady with the little kid he said hello to. But I don’t think he really knows any of these people.”
10:45pm
“Jack, we’ve been here all day watching this guy. What time is it?”
“Nearly 11 pm. Are there any of those fries left?”
“Here.”
“Thanks. You know what? Stay here. I’m gonna get out and stretch my legs. I’m going to go talk to this guy.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I’ll think of something. Move into the driver’s seat, in case we have to leave again, okay?”
“No problem. But after this, you’re buying me some real food and some strong drinks.”
“You got it.”
Jack exited the car and approached the apartment building’s archway entrance. The subject stood off to his left.
A black limousine pulled up in front of the building and caught Jack’s attention. A man and woman exited the limo and walked toward the entrance.
Jack was right behind the subject at this point. Adhira watched from inside their car. The man and woman walked past the subject and Jack thought he heard the subject say the man’s name. The subject then reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun.
From years of training, Jack was ready. He was always ready. This was what he did for a living.
The hunter.
The problem solver.
Jack emptied the clip of his .38 automatic into the subject’s body. Headshot first followed by a hail of bullets into his body. The subject fell to the ground as the woman with the man screamed and ducked behind her husband. They both turned and looked into Jack’s face.
But only for a moment.
Blood began to pool around the subject’s head as he died on the pavement in front of the building. Guards grabbed the couple and pulled them inside the lobby.
Jack was already gone. He leaped into the car, and Adhira hit the gas. Within minutes they were far from the scene.
“Oh my God! How did you know, Jack?”
“It’s what I do. Just keep driving.”
Los Angeles, CA – December 9
Jack sat alone at the bar in the club on Sunset Strip. He was approached by one of the servers.
“Marty will see you now, sir.”
Jack walked into the back room and sat down in front of Marty’s desk.
“You did good, Jack. Real good.” He placed a briefcase on the desk in front of him.
Jack looked at him and took a sip from his drink. “No.”
“No? but, there’s extra in there.”
“You keep it.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yea. This one’s on me.”
I wrote this story back in 2020 in memory of one of my fallen heroes who was taken from us too soon on December 8, 1980.
If only things could have been different…
Rest in peace, John.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly.Â
Phicklephilly 