Mister Pittsburgh

 PITTSBURGH - 

 

It was once a city filled with smog and steel mills but has become a romantic, cozy, beautiful urban entity. It entices and entertains with the Cultural District and Civic Light Opera shows. It has everything from 'Hamilton' to 'Hello Dolly!' performing throughout the year. 

The Strip District has always been my hot spot. Let me tell you about when I was young. Let me take you back like the dream sequence in 'Wayne's World'...

 

 

At night the clubs opened up and there were a plethora of them. Several of them literally floated along the river on one big dock. A restaurant called Cruisers had tables with umbrellas overlooking the dark and dangerous looking waters of the Allegheny. The river wasn't something to look at back in those days. The depth was unknown, what was in it was not alive, and it had a very distinct smell. If you fell in or went into the river a single shower would not take the smell away. You would have to use bleach and scrub for hours to get the stench out of your hair and off of your body. 

Cruisers was an excellent way for us to sneak into the hottest nightclubs at the time. We would slither around the tables pretending to be customers and soon find ourselves underage patrons at the nightclubs upstairs.

 I'm reminiscing. I'm doing so because I feel as though the younger generations missed out on the after hours of Pittsburgh. 

The underground. The mix-tapes. The fun. 

The fun that made you feel like an adult and a kid at the same time. Some people don't like roller coasters (my son being one of them to my dismay). But eventually, we are all on a roller coaster at some point. 

When you're young it's good to experience these things, stir up a little trouble, make friends you'd have never made had you not been shaking your booty at the club. The stench of the river in the background reminding you not to fall in. The music so loud you couldn't hear the secrets being told to people that you didn't need to know anyway. 

COVID stole so much from our youth. COVID was what we call 'snapshot memories'. 

In psychology, they call these moments in time 'snapshot memories'. The older generations had the assassination of JFK. We had the collapse of the Twin Towers. They call these moments snapshot memories because you remember exactly where you were when you found out something so tragic. You might remember the strangest details: what you were wearing, who you were with, what it smelled like at the time. Sure, time heals, we rebuild, we move along, but it's like a tidal wave or a tsunami, there are ripples. Those ripples go on and on long after the storm has past. 

What are your ripples? What was your tsunami? Who were you with? What did it smell like? I hope not the river from the early 2000's. 

My ripples make me reminisce on the good times we had, before COVID, before we got to be middle aged. 

Before all the nightclubs closed and you stopped being able to buy bootleg CD's from underground cover bands at a table outside a club in the Strip District. 

Soon, playing loud music and dancing in my room didn't take me back to the good times, they made me lonely. They made me yearn for friends, for trust, for dignity, for respect, for all the things I once had so easily that now were no where to be found. 

I had several real crises. Different from the 'Cry-seas'. Just a word I made up for the ugly cry that happens when you're alone.  

Where to begin when you don't have a beginning and you don't have an ending. When you're stuck in the muck. How the hell did I get here? 

Well, I suppose it's easiest to just tell you. Exactly what landed me in this sober living house, with no heat, but lots of mental health support. It was just another weekend.