in honor of n64jerry, I want to share a story that's not about him all. About how I got introduced to the Grateful Dead.
I had a summer job on a mountain in the Appalachians. I had gotten my TABC license the year before and knew how to mix basic drinks, manage the tape printer, and talk to customers. The head bartender was a woman named Trish, her husband James was the head cook and her son who looked like James Franco (different father) was a line cook. She introduced herself the first day by pointing to her nametag, then flipping it around to show where she had gotten it printed "BITCH" on the back. She was multi-generational hillbilly, knew how to cook possum and raccoon and roadkill, and never stopped laughing and joking around.
Except when we dealt with the fry cook in the kitchen, a big goofy dude named Grateful Dave. He had a huge red nose, long curls, an always-dirty chef's smock, and half his words were "Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaah" and the other were "Ijustburnedmyfingers!" 2 replies
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Basically, Grateful Dave the fry cook was James the head cook's worst nightmare. Always late, brain perma-fried, a danger to everyone. Trish accepted zero shit from us, the bar staff, but she had to listen to her husband go on and on at home about Dave being late, Dave spilling fryer oil, Dave burning his fingers, etc.
The bar staff loved it all.
Grateful Dave was a super nice guy too. Heeeeeeyyy man, and then he'd do a goofy giggle. A gentle, nearly brain-fried giant at age 22 or 23.
But he had a nearly encyclopedic memory of Grateful Dead sets, concerts, who played what part in which season of which year. It was like his entire brain was Grateful Dead mix tapes, catalogued like his actual precious deck of tapes.
Whenever he met someone new, he'd try to start a conversation about their favorite Grateful Dead track. And it would quickly turn into an argument over Phil and Bobby, how one was canon and the other was blasphemy... 1 reply
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Nobody knew wtf he was talking about, ever, until Augie arrived.
Augie was an Irish-American dude from Boston named Andrew, also with curly hair, droopy eyes and a pothead's giggle. He was even more into the Grateful Dead than Grateful Dave. His beater had no air conditioning, but 70+ carefully catalogued mixtapes of Grateful Dead concerts, each with its own backstory.
When we were off work, Augie and Grateful Dave would spend hours listening to 4 different versions of Shakedown Street, each one 8-15 minutes long, and maybe one Terrapin Station or one Dark Star.
We had unlimited cheap beers, and a bunch of Americans working summer jobs from different colleges. A girl from Florida who looked just like MIla Kunis. A jazz trumpet player from Arizona. A cute blonde from the Quad Cities who liked to wear a pink Harley Davidson jumpsuit. Plus 3 Romanian dudes and one of their girlfriends, the 2 big Hungarians Istvan and Marko, and 2 Latvians Inga and Karina, looking to get married. 1 reply
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OK quick diversion to describe the Latvian women.
Karina was brunette, with a light, pleasant British accent and a head full of books and jokes with wordplay.
Inga had black hair, and classic Slavic facial structure and body, like a younger, shorter (5'6") Melania. Plus a horsey laugh. Her English wasn't perfect.
Trish knew the deal. Her son (with the movie star looks) had married a stunning Slovakian woman who had worked there the previous summer, 6'1" 130lbs with grey eyes and long, straight hair. Trish encouraged every young American boy to talk to Inga.
I tried. GDI I tried. I could talk with Karina for hours about literature, and Inga would just smile and nod occasionally. We would all get drunk and talk stupid and the two of them would nurse their beers, soaking up the American debates about Phil vs Bobby and why Jerry was the greatest.
Karina married my buddy Dan at the end of the summer, and they moved to North Carolina... 1 reply
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