I worked with a lot of dudes named Steve at the Park. So many that we had to add qualifiers to their names. One such Steve was dubbed Big Steve. Because he was, literally, big. Well, tall anyway. And he liked to work out. A lot. In contrast to the longer, baggier style of the early 90's, Big Steve had curly hair and liked his shorts short and his shirts tight. He resembled nothing so much as a he did a 70s porn star.
Since Big Steve didn't drink, he rarely hung out. Or maybe he just didn't like us. One memorable exception was Slidestock, held in a girl named Brooke's backyard on the same weekend as Woodstock '94, but with less mud and corporate sponsorship.
Around midnight, we ran out of booze. Steve was the only sober one there and he and I were both over 21, so we were nominated to go on a beer run. After taking orders (mostly beer, with one exception, which I'll get to in a minute) and collecting money, we got into Steve's red Mazda sports car (See! Porny.) and drove to the 24-hour Mobil Mart in Warwick, NY. We loaded up the counter and when the cashier asked us is we needed anything else I remembered that my friend Jason had asked me to buy him condoms.
"Yeah, I need a box of Trojan ribbed, lubricated...." I went on and on. Jason had been very specific about the brand & type he wanted, and I was very drunk. The cashier looked at me with confusion and I finally slammed my hand down on the counter and yelled, "Condoms! I need condoms!"
The cashier looked at me, then looked at Big Steve who was standing behind me in his short shorts and tight sweatshirt. She smiled and pointed- "They're over there. Help yourself."
It was hard to tell who was more horrified by her assumption, me or Steve. Probably Steve. Despite his appearance, he was really uptight and I don't think he appreciated being likened to a porn star. Which probably explains why, by the next summer, he was sporting a shaved head and weird (even by 90s standards) facial hair. Luckily, he still wore the short shorts. But it wasn't the same.
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3 comments:
This is a bit like the time drunken Kristina Wong was hassling the foreign bodega guys about the herbal sex pills, the first night we ever hung out. She rules.
Oh, these are the Steves I know I know! We had Big Steve, Little Steve, Medium Steve, and Stupid Steve. We were too hung over to be creative.
And then there was Connolly. He never got a qualifier. He was the lucky one.
Aww, I loved Stupid Steve, though Stoned Steve would have been more accurate. Remember when he tried to use the tower as a sundial?
And I loved how angry Medium Steve was when he realized what his nickname was. Whatever, he was kind of douchey.
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