December 4, 1977 was Sunday

And I was into my first 24 hours of living in Kansas City.

Well, actually I was just right across the river in Kansas, in Shawnee--I think it was. I'd moved there there on Dec. 3, which was also friend's birthday. I hated leaving my hometown because we wouldn't have a chance to party with her. She was 19 after all. However, the friend over at my dad's house to see me off tho.

Back to Kansas City. I was to start a new job on on Monday, at a global motel reservation call center. For all of $450 a MONTH. Big money I thought. For the time being I was going to stay in a motel which was kinda walking distance, yet not quite really, from my new job. I wound up taking a cab which got me to work a hour late a few of those first days. I'm surprised I didn't get fired.

Looking back, maybe I should have. I mean, I moved from small town Iowa to Kansas City. A city with more than three stop lighs, withOUT a car. Plus, I really didn't have a place to stay--except this motel. I knew no one. I knew not where to go. The company that hired me said there could be folks to help me know the city and places to live. I learned later my step-mother had family in KC, yet no offer to stay with them materialized.

What I remember was not meeting any of my interviewers until I showed up on the first day. Really. Everything was conducted on the phone with a 200 mile distance between us. I guess things could be done like that in the 70's. Also the company was talking about GOING computerized. All our reservation taking, which included Australia, was separated by the color of paper we wrote on and a big board in front of us with "X" by locations sold out. WOW. Sounds so antique now, huh?

I ordered pizza for supper on this Dec 4 night--delivered--.

I had no kitchen area to cook in. I can't remember what exactly I did for food. I couldn't drive anywhere. I was in a major city without major transportation. I don't know why I didn't have some kind of jalopy to get me 'round. I would ask my dad why--and never got a straight answer from Big Daddy Don. Wonder if it was a way for me to stay dependent? Or he was just too broke enough to get me one?

Oh well. I quit the job in June 1978 and headed back to hometown Iowa. Six months to experience smokin' weed the first time, the virtues of vodka mixed with just about anything, first entry into a gay bar, lied about a family emergency so I could take off time to fly to Utah to witness Donny and Marie tape their original TV variety show (Priorities. We watched from the studio's green room and both D & M later came in), had sex for the second time ever (and not that sure I was doing it right) and I still no car as I shut out the lights on Kansas City and left.

And on this Dec 4 night in 2010, I smile. What a kid I was. And I'd do it all again.

Only maybe I'd make sure I have sex for the third time ever....... :)

December 12 Was A Monday in 1977

As my diary reminded. I wrote how I waited for the weekend---imagine that! However, life was a tad bit different. Just a tad-then. I'd moved to Kansas City, my first move away from home, a couple weeks before. It was to head to my first major, real time job, at Travelodge Reservations Center. They hired me on the phone, site unseen. It was the 70's.

This job was WAY before computers. We did everything with different colors of papers. OK--I'm not gonna bore with you that. Wait--the salary, I think, was less than $500 a month...big time.

What I will tell you, I moved to a KC, after I attended a travel school in Coral Gables, Florida. While in Florida, I busted my step-mother's platform shoes, while I got my groove thing on the dance floor--however, that's another entry. I moved to KC with out a car--why, I'm not sure. Kansas City was a bit bigger than my Iowa hometown and even, Des Moines. For the first week or so, I lived in a motel room, not far from work. A taxi cab, that I became on a first name basis with, took me everyday. Even the motel folks were nice, they said I could stay as long as I wanted. Looking back, I should have done just that. However, at the instance of my step-mother, I needed to find a place to live. So, on a Friday night, after work, I moved into my first ever apartment, site unseen and a few miles from my job.

The apartment was a one room, furnished, all expense paid, pull out the mattress from the green vinyl couch, with a gorgeous shag carpet of black, brown, and white. Yippee. Oh, and after the taxi cab dropped me off--remember, I had no car--I moved in without even toilet paper. I remember I went to my up stair's neighbor and humbly asked for a roll. She was a single mom, with the daughter who played "Easy" by the Commodores, so loud, I heard it through the floor. A co-worker was to come and take me to the store--and didn't. I had no phone. Can't remember what I ate that first night. I remember being panicked as I looked at my tub and realized I had not shower curtain, and just bars of soap I took from the motel.

Oh, did I mention, I had no TV or stereo--just a clock radio? I'd lived in that motel, so I had my needs supplied. Those luxuries would should up in about another week or so, when my Dad Greyhound them to me. On this day, I waited for letters from my friends back home...ANYTHING. And I was readying myself for a test at my job--to make sure we all learned what color of papers to use for reservations in the US and Australia and cancellations.

In KC, is also when I began to use my full first name. It had to do with how distinguished the reps on the colored pieces of papers. A co-worker and I shared the same first and last initials. So I mentioned what my whole first name is actually two names with a hyphen in the middle. So since then, folks have known me by the whole first name, while those prior just first name of the two-name first name. Confused?

I lasted 6 months in Kansas City. Didn't have a car the entire time. Walked to work. Took me about 40 minutes. I walked straight through-no stops, and would walk home. Took a bus on some days. Or people would give me rides. Yet, I wasn't too bright to call for the bus schedule, because, one Saturday, I stood in the rain and waited for it, so I could get to work. It didn't show, so as I walked back to my apartment (which was on a hill), stopped at a 7-11 (since my phone was shut off) and called work to say I was sick. Hmm. I need to Google the distance I walked. I'm curious.

Anyway, in the diary, I wrote how I looked forward to the weekend--it was Monday, after all. I was determined to go and DO something the next weekend. Co-workers spoke of taking me around. I wonder if that happened. Little did I know, I would soon meet a guy at work. Develope such a crush and tell him, 'your name is so macho'--and later find out he was gay. Live and learn. This guy and I have known each other for 30 years. He took me to my first gay bar, showed me how to smoke my first joint and...well, the rest is for another entry--although I heard a particular song for first time at his house--as we all partied in his den as stereo blarred vinyl.

Oh well, It was the 70's. Six months does more than a memory make. Cue the Village People, for Friday IS this day and the particular song I heard for the first time in this guy's den? Hit play.