Working Monday mornings only come around about once a month and they suck as much for me as for everyone else. Day shifts are relatively boring, or I should say, even more boring than night shifts. This whole job is an exercise in dealing with boredom. I joke about having finished reading the internet.
Talking about reading I’m about to finish the 3rd book this week about bikers. This one, ‘Outlaws’, is about the history of the clubs in the UK and constantly reminds me of my one time run in with a Hell’s Angel (which, on further thought, reminds of another run in).
Fatty, his girlfriend Sally, and I were on the 2-hour drive home from London after a gig and stopped at the service station to fill up on some food. It was probably around 1am and the place was empty. The food in bain-marie looked unappetising but we needed something to fill our empty bellies. We filled our plates and sat down, having the choice of the whole room to sit in. As we nearly finished a biker came in, got some food and chose to sit down next to us. Of course, we immediately became nervous and finished up as quickly as we could. The biker looked straight at Sally and said ‘do you want to fuck?’
Thankfully she was too stunned to say anything, which was unusual for her. I could see her mouthing off and getting us all punched down. We picked up our things and left swiftly. I think I heard the biker say ‘guess that’s a no then?’ as we got through the door. Thankfully he was alone.
And the other story that came to mind was in a pub one early evening Fatty and I were standing next to a pillar, happily drinking away. We stuck our drinks on the shelf around the pillar in between gulps and continued chatting, putting the world to rights as per usual early 20-year-olds shooting the breeze. I turned to pick up my beer, almost full, and it was gone. I looked around the pillar and three Hell’s Angels were talking to each other, paying no attention to this little runt who’d just lost his drink.
I tapped one of them on the back and as he turned I smashed him in the face and stomped on his stomach. As the other two pulled out their pistols I karate chopped one and high kicked the other and then……oh wait. That’s not what happened. We went somewhere else to get a drink instead.
Hopefully, the next book I read is a little less hateful.