Party in the U.S.A.

Ignoring the fact that our current president is an absolute imbecile, I will still maintain that the Fourth of July is one of my favorite holidays. In fact, I would rank it third – following immediately behind New Year’s Eve and two notches below the greatest holiday of them all, Halloween.

I have always been blessed with phenomenal Fourth of July’s and this year’s was certainly no exception, but the one I had back in 2010 will hopefully forever remain isolated in a league of its own. Typically, the Fourth is all about fun, but in that particular year it was all about horror.

Anytime we go to Fair St. Louis we would always ride Metrolink in order to avoid having to find and pay for parking near the riverfront. On that particular Fourth in 2010 we boarded our westbound train at the Southwestern Illinois College station in Belleville, Illinois and began our ride to the fair.

As Nancy, Melissa, and I sat comfortably in our seats talking amongst ourselves a fellow patron took notice of my Coca-Cola shirt and decided to comment on it from across the way.

“Ah man, watchu doin’ wearin’ that shirt out?” He inquired with his raspy voice.

I first didn’t realize he was talking to me, but then he pointed directly at me and continued talking.

“A shirt like that man, you know, vintage, shouldn’t be worn out like that. Ya keep it hidden so it worth some monies one day, aight,” he said with a giant smile across his face and his head bobbing up and down energetically.

“Actually, this shirt is from Target,” I answered him. “I just bought it.” I couldn’t help but smile big too as I replied because his toothless grin was infectious.

“Say what? You gots it at Target?” He looked like he couldn’t believe what I had just said. “That’s not bad at all man, that’s not bad at all. I’s thought you was wearin’ somethin’ real vintage you know. Somethin’ old, somethin’ from the old time ya feel?” He laughed the entire time he spoke causing Melissa, Nancy, and I to laugh along.

“No, thankfully it’s not vintage,” I continued still beaming with my smile. “I do love vintage Coca-Cola stuff though, no doubt about that, I collect the bottles.”

“Yeah man, yeah,” he said giving me the bobble head again showing he approved of my collecting. “You’s know what I love mo’ than Coca-Cola though?” He raised his eyebrows and the three of us hung on in anticipation for his next words. “Budweiser!” He called out with excitement. He apparently startled some of the other passengers because several people jumped when he yelled that St. Louis namesake. He must have noticed the jumps because he turned to look at all the other passengers saying, “I mean we’s from St. Louis, right? You’s gots to love Budweiser. You’s gots to!”

“Absolutely,” I agreed despite the actual fact I am not one to partake.

“I just think we all’s from St. Louis so we’s gots to love Budweister,” he exclaimed again, that smile beaming brighter than ever. “I’s is definitely gonna get me some Buds tonight!”

“Well, you certainly are headed to the right place then,” I said smiling.

“Hey man, you know what song I love?” He said in a more serious tone leaving me with several moments to answer him.

Melissa, Nancy, and I all shrugged our shoulders, but could not wait to hear what song he was going to say.

“I’M NOT AFRAID! I’M NOT AFRAID! TO TAKE A STAND! TO TAKE A STAND!” He started singing atop his lungs the beginning lyrics to Eminem’s chart-topping hit, Not Afraid, rocking his body back and forth all the while as he sang.

As he performed nearly every head on that train car turned to look his direction. He didn’t even notice because his eyes were closed, but his mouth couldn’t have been more open.

“Oh yeah,” I said shaking my head in agreement with his song choice. “I super love that song!”

“Yeah’s man, it good, it good,” he said nodding his head rapidly “That should be the theme of the night, Not Afraid. Just remember, you’s can’t be afraid no matter what. It’s the Fourth of July you know so you never know what’s gonna happen, but you can’t be afraid when it does.” His tone became a bit more serious in that last part, but he maintained his smile.

As we continued conversing, the whole train was gifted with a few seconds of a current alternative rock hit when a young boys phone went off, this prompted my Budweiser loving friend to shift gears.

“You know’s what?” He asked, still smiling from ear to ear.

“What’s that?” I replied.

“I’s ain’t gots no cellphone,” he said shaking his head and raising his hands in an I surrender kind of way. “Nope, I don’t have one at all. I don’ts gots the need for it.” He shrugged his shoulders and laughed saying, “I is livin’ like it still 1990!” He thought this was hilarious because he buckled down in a fit of laughter causing Melissa, Nancy, and I to do the same.

“You’s got yoselfs a cellphone?” He asked the three of us and each of us shook our heads yes.

“None of ours has the internet or anything fancy like that,” I said trying to relate somewhat to this phoneless man.

“Ah yeah man, I see some people’s phones and they’s doin’ er-thing’ on thurr. They livin’ their life on da phone!” He said with even greater laughter and enthusiasm. “I use to have one, but er-body be askin’ if they can use it, but I was all like, naw man, getcho own!”

As he finished those words our train began to slow into the Casino Queen station, which was our stop for Fair St. Louis. There is no better place to watch the Fair St. Louis fireworks than from the Illinois side of the river because the backdrop of the Gateway Arch and downtown St. Louis create an unrivaled viewing.

“I’s loved talkin’ with y’all!” He said as he shook my hand and walked towards the doors. He looked back once more adding, “remember the theme of the night! I’m not afraid! I’m not afraid!” He sang as he smiled and walked off the train. Little did we know then that he had most certainly prophesized the night’s theme.

After watching the spectacular fireworks show from the deck of the Ead’s Bridge – the first bridge to cross the Mississippi River – we set off for Lumiére Place Casino in historic Laclede’s Landing. It had become a tradition of ours to go gambling following the fireworks and we are never ones to break with tradition.

Lumiére Place was a madhouse with people everywhere. We followed the snaking line of those eager to gamble to the back, so that we could wait amongst them in order to get into the casino. I remember that line taking an eternity for us to get through. The security personnel were really checking people’s identification cards hard that night. When we were about fifty or so people from the security podiums I received a text and like I would anytime I took out my phone to read it. This proved to be quite the mistake.

“Hey man, you got a cellphone on you?” A scraggly voiced gentleman whispered directly into my left ear sending immediate shivers up and down my spine.

I realized that holding the phone in hand I was in no situation to tell him anything other than the truth on the matter, so I answered him simply with, “yes.”

“Great man, I really need to use it to call my sister. You see, she’s in there gambling and I need to call her because we have to go up to the hospital because our cousin is in there. He got into a real bad accident you see…”

This guy’s story seemed to last longer than the line we had been waiting in and there was no apparent ending in sight. Melissa, Nancy, and I all stood there stunned not really sure what to do, not sure what we could do, and not sure if we should really do anything at all.

As the man spoke his words slurred and his crazed eyes wandered in every which direction as if he were on the lookout for someone. His voice was low and hoarse and his eyes were so red and his pupils so large that everything about him made me uneasy.

After all his rambling he finally asked me if it was okay for him to use my phone to call his sister, but he made it quite clear to me that he was not interested in using it until we had cleared security. This request immediately struck me as odd. Why the need to wait? I thought to myself.

I spoke the absolute bare minimum to this man, but did so with a smile as I did not want to neither come across as being rude, nor did I wish to appear overly friendly. It was a fine line I attempted to balance. All the while I was speaking I kept playing the chorus to Not Afraid over and over in my head. I needed to adopt those lyrics to my life.

As the man hovered over me uncomfortably he blurted out abruptly, “what the Hell are you pointing that finger at boy!?!” And with that holler he whisked around at the couple in line behind us.

“I was pointing at a machine over there that I wanna play, that okay with you?” Retorted the boy behind us in line. I would say this boy and his girlfriend appeared to be around our age at the time, which would have been 24.

I felt really nervous for this boy and his girlfriend because of the violent reaction to the pointing this crazed lunatic had, but I definitely felt that his outburst helped us more than hurt us, as now everyone in our vicinity was aware of him.

No sooner had he randomly screamed at these strangers he wandered out of line over to where two security guards were posted. This provided all of us the perfect opportunity to discuss what the Hell was going on here.

“Damn this is weird,” I began.

“Um… yeah, I hear you. He’s creepy as fuck,” echoed Melissa.

“What does he want with you?” Asked the boy standing in line behind us.

“To use my phone to call his sister, but not until we have passed through security,” I answered while bugging my eyes out to emphasize how bizarre this whole situation was.

“I hope you told him no,” the boy responded shaking his head and giving a slight laugh.

“Well, I didn’t exactly tell him yes, but I certainly didn’t tell him no either.”

“I don’t know man, he’s fucking weird. We need to tell security if he isn’t already telling on himself over there,” the boy said motioning to the obviously tense exchange happening between the guards and this crazed lunatic.

As soon as that boy finished his sentence the red-eyed stranger turned around and walked back over to us. My heart immediately sank. I was hoping he would take long enough with the guards that we could escape into the casino without having to see him again.

“Hey man,” he said with his hoarse voice into my ear. “Let’s just tell them we’re all together when we get up there.”

“I’m not really sure why we would need to tell them anything at all?” I remarked to which he ignored and just continued hovering over me in line. I found myself wishing more and more that I had no phone like my friend from the Metrolink.

It was finally our turn to pass through the identification card checkpoint and Nancy went first, but as she was handing her driver’s license over to security, the man cut past Melissa and I and struck up a conversation with the officer.

“You see them fireworks tonight? They were the best I’d seen,” he spoke to her, but she continued doing her job and ignored him. He immediately looked annoyed. “I said did you see them fireworks tonight?” His tone darkened and became heavily demanding. “I came all the way here from North Carolina just to see them there fireworks.”

The security woman handed Nancy her driver’s license back and informed her she was good to pass through. The red-eyed man then attempted to pass through himself, but in his talking about the fireworks, additional security had arrived at the checkpoint and collectively they informed him he would not be permitted to enter the casino. He was then escorted out of line, providing Melissa and I the opportunity to pass through. We thankfully never saw that man again.

We gambled in masse for the next two or so hours doing nothing but rehashing those terrifying ten minutes with that red-eyed man. We crossed paths with the boy and girl who were behind us in line on our way out of the casino and they informed us that when he returned to the line after talking with the security guards that they both went back over to those guards and tipped them off about the man harassing us. We thanked them incessantly and bid them a good night and a happy Fourth of July. From there it was time to take our annual walk downtown back to the then named Scottrade Center, the home of the St. Louis Blues National Hockey Team, so we could catch the Metrolink and head back to Illinois.

After an uneventful walk downtown we arrived at a nearly deserted Metrolink station. I say nearly deserted because the only individual on the premises was a security guard who greeted us coldly with, “I think that might have been the last eastbound train.”

My heart fell into my underwear.

“Um…I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Melissa asked in disbelief. “It’s only 12:30.”

“Let me look at my schedule, but I think that was it,” he said while pulling a small blue book from his pocket. “Wait, y’all might be in luck. I think there is just one more. It’ll be here at 12:37.”

This was a much-needed relief and then taking in another much needed relief the three of us sat down on the empty benches amongst the station.

Well, those six minutes turned into seven which then became fifteen and yet still no sign of any train.

“I’m sorry, but are you sure there is going to be another train?” Melissa inquired.

“According to my schedule there should be,” shrugged the security guard. “Then again, it should’ve been here by now, so maybe not.”

Again, my heart dropped into my underwear.

We continued to sit there all the while praying that a train would arrive and soon enough our prayers had been answered, a train pulled into the station.

As it came to a complete stop a voice sounded from the speakers around us, “attention Metrolink passengers, this train has been discontinued, please exit accordingly.”

A handful of irritated looking people walked off the train and joined the three of us on the platform. A couple of guys walked over and started yelling at the security guard, which unfortunately woke up a baby this woman was holding and it’s wails echoed throughout the platform. The scene was tense.

Security then informed us all that the train was going to take us all as far as Emerson Park, which was not our destination, but was in Illinois and infinitely closer to where we needed to be.

While on the train I called our friend Katie to see if she and Jon were still awake and more importantly, if they were willing to come pick us up at the Emerson Park station and take us back to the Southwestern Illinois College one. Thankfully, she said they were able. There was light at the end of our tunnel.

As promised the Metrolink train took us back to the Emerson Park station where we all exited the train. The time was now just past 2:00 in the morning. I got back on the phone with Katie to tell her that we were at the station and would be waiting in the circle drive for her and Jon to arrive.

As we stood there in the circle drive waiting for Jon and Katie to come bail us out the two guys that had been arguing with the security guard back at the Scottrade Center station walked over to talk to us.

“Y’all wanna walk with us back to downtown Belleville,” said the less drunk of the two.

“Oh, no thank you,” I replied. “We have some friends who are coming to get us, but thank you for the invitation.”

“Well then, maybe they can give us a ride,” slurred out the other man as he moved his buddy aside.

“I’m sorry, but there are two of them and three of us and their car only seats five,” I answered quickly.

“Well then, FUCK Y’ALL!” Hollered the overly drunk man. “FUCK! YOU! ALL!” He screamed repeatedly as the three of us took several steps back. His friend grabbed his shoulder and led him away and we stood there watching as the two of them thankfully walked out of sight.

We went and all sat down on a bench that was just a few feet off the circle drive and a young boy about fifteen came and sat at the bench opposite of us.

Melissa, Nancy, and I continued talking amongst ourselves and I noticed the boy kept looking over in our direction as though he had something he wanted to say before he finally spoke up and did so,

“One y’all got a phone I can borrow to give my daddy a call? He said he was gonna be here about a half hour ago,” the boy spoke softly like he was trying to mask the worry in his voice.

I had no problem handing my phone over to this kid. He promptly called his dad and spoke with him briefly before handing my phone back over to me. It was only a matter of minutes before the boy’s father showed up and thanked us from his car for allowing his son to call him from our phone.

I told the gentleman it was no problem and bid the two of them a good night and safe drive home. I looked at the home screen on my phone and saw that it was now fifteen minutes till 3:00. This had already been the longest night of my life and it still wasn’t over.

Katie and Jon arrived just a few minutes later and the three of us piled into their backseat all the while showering them with a never-ending barrage of ‘thank you’s.’

“Um… so what in the world happened to you guys tonight?” Katie asked sharply.

“Well, let me just start by saying we met a modern day prophet tonight,” and with that I began the story of how everything that man from the Metrolink spoke of materialized in one form or another throughout the course of our tumultuous Fourth – and Fifth – of July.