“…air tales”

 

“A WBAI Story or Uncle Sydney Remembers”

Since I’m in retirement now I thought I should write down my memories of some of the demented hijinks I witnessed or was instigator of. Years ago when the radio station was near Times Square. WBAI wbai.org  I guess this was in the early 1980’s somewhere. Anyway we put on this New Years rock party.

Drunken stoned hippies their girl friends, and drug dealers were all over the place. I was the engineer on duty, and my job, besides keeping us on the air, was to keep order.

Well things got edgy nuts after a bit, and I had to strong arm some trouble makers out to the street. Booze crowds, and loud music does this. I warned the rest to chill or I’d call the heat. I planned to put a transcribed 1956 “Liberace” program on in their place so was half hoping they’d give me cause. Anyhow things calmed down, and the guys went back to playing bootleg Dead concerts, and I went back to fixing crap. An engineer’s work is never done.

The point of this whole saga was what I found in the famed WBAI men’s room. No not the junkie friend of one of our insane hosts nodding out on the floor. No not even that screeching freaked out cat in a travel bag left by a forgetful guest. 

No this time it was a set of heroin works.

Oh my gawd it was amazing stunning unbelievable a vision from drug fiend heaven. There it was perched atop a crapper like an Angel slumming in Hell. There in a finely carved cedar box lined with purple velvet was a expertly hand made chrome etched crystal glass, and silver gilded hypo with an assortment of different sized custom made needles.

One could see that passion went into the fashioning of this spike. 

My heart went aflutter.  A sinful thought passed through me of absconding  with this blessed instrument of dreams, and nightmares. ‘But how could I deny a fellow searcher of this chalice. I carefully cradled those wondrous works in my arms, and went to the main studio where the deranged drunken mobs were. I opened the sound lock, and holding the works over my head said,…

“…Did one of you bleeping degenerates lose something?!”

A tentative hand went up, and a smiling hairy drug addict came forward, and claimed his wayward property. It was all in a night’s work.