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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