Wednesday, December 2, 2009

The Mobil Station Party HQ In Pacific Palisades

When I was a teenager growing up, there wasn't no Twitter. No Facebook Events. No Myspace bulletins. No Evite. No Friendster. No Hotmail. Not even Motorola Startac cell phones!

But there was a Mobil Gas station in Pacific Palisades where all the kids would congregate on Friday and Saturday nights looking for the hot parties to attend. Bel-Air Patrol would congregate there too, but if you got there at the right time you would be in.

I remember one time we went down there and heard about some party up Bienveneda Canyon. We were in 9th grade. (That would make it circa 1991.) And this was some senior at Palisades High School's house whose parents were clearly out of town. It was just a friend, my step-brother & I.

When we arrived we're like "Whoa this is intimidatingly out of our league of coolness." We each weighed about 100 pounds and were private school nerds surrounded by the best Jim Morrison's, Matthew McConaughey's, Alicia Silverstone's and Lindsay Lohan's Pali had to offer.

A tank of nitrous was the De facto centerpiece & the aroma of schwag weed was wafting. Led Zeppelin poured out over the canyon from the living room speakers which were pointed toward the terrace where 150 or so kids were debauching. It was one of those houses built right in to the side of a hill with a large pool patio area basically on stilts. We walked over to the edge to check out the chicks and gauge the situation. Really just trying not to get our asses kicked.

After sussing it out my friend decides to take his first hit of Nitrous Oxide. Apparently, he got a good one and almost fell directly in to the empty pool. The older kids finally noticed us and started yelling at him to get away. My step-brother & I guided him over to the edge of the terrace high over the slope below overlooking the relaxing million dollar city and canyon view. Taking his first post-nitrous high deep breath, he leans against the railing.

Next thing you know he falls like 15-20 feet down. The railing was broken & just barely balancing together. Putting any weight on it at all made it fall & sure enough he went with it.

The music stopped. Like a scene from a movie. Everyone was freaking out. Yelling and running to his aid.

It ended up that he landed on some sort of scrub brush that kind of placed him, without so much as a scrape, gently on the side of the hill about 6 inches to the right of one of those mountainside sprinkler heads that juts 4 feet out of the ground and would certainly have impaled him.

100 people gathered around to try and help him back up. He had long blond surfer dude hair. Once they pull his scraggly ass back on the terrace, they realize he's not the owner of the house's girlfriend as was feared. The Zeppelin roars back up immediately and everyone walks away.
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