Hot Dogs and Beer...

 Hot Dogs and Beer...




    Weird scenes inside the gold mine was sung by the Doors but it describes many sights seen, felt or smelled at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. Only Greg could place a black man's sigh of relief in the men's room as part of the rich tapestry. The gent whose bladder was just emptied said with gratitude "man! that felt good!" Greg connected with the positivity of such a statement and repeated it many times in my presence after taking care of his own busniness. The Coliseum was also the place where my stoned out brother hid in the bushes from the cops at a rock festival featuring Janis Joplin. It was where Jack, the Knowltons and I shook the hand of Senator John F. Kennedy in 1960. No, really, JFK. It was where I saw the giant of American music Nat King Cole relaxing with his daughter Natalie while a knuckle dragging racist drunkenly spouted hate in his direction. Nat in some great seats for a Dodger game just lit another Camel cigarette and cheered for the newly arrived boys from Brooklyn. The Coliseum was where my boyhood pals went to a Ram game and Bobby Whitney somehow ignited a pocketful of lady fingers mixed with wooden matches, creating a fireworks show all on his own.  Part of that mileau was Jack trying to engage Ernest Borgnine in conversation by asking him "Who was that dog I saw ya with last night?" It was seeing boxing's LA golden boy Art Aragon throw a drunk head first down the concrete stairs after he saw the bum mistreat a woman. The coliseum was where Johnny, Paul and I held up lit matches in tribute to Roy Campanella May 7, 1959 with 93 thousand other baseball fans. However, this post is about the wisdom of a father given to his son after one forgotten football game sometime in the 1960's. John had taken his sons to a Ram game and using the accustomed post-game maneuver as they were hustling through exposition park toward Santa Barbara avenue where their car was parked. Everyone was moving quickly but young Greg spotted a large pool of vomitus that fans were dodging around while holding their noses. John looked over and led his boys clear of the mess while he said  "hot dogs and beer...aint it disgusting!" That sentence was repeated to me by Greg followed by great guffawing as recently as the 2020's. Come to think of it, the combo when puked are still disgusting.


                                Roy Campanella Night...we were there

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