Philip Dampier's Blog

Idaho Love Story by Philip Dampier

Episode 1: The Power Pole-A Trusted Friend

I was standing on the fire escape platform at the back side of The Owyhee Hotel in downtown Boise, Idaho. I was on the fourth floor of a five-story building holding on to the railing of the down ladder, wearing nothing but my BVDs. It was January of 1958 and it was snowing heavily at the time, and the ground was covered in the white stuff and deepening. I should have been freezing, but I wasn’t. Too much alcohol in my blood to freeze. My body was better protected from freezing up than the car I had driven in to the hotel.

I had to throw up, and I was afraid to lean over the railing. Did I mention that I am afraid of heights? Not that it mattered, as I was too drunk to remember that I suffered from acrophobia. Somehow, I made it down the iron staircase to the ground. I don’t remember the descent, but I do remember being on the ground. I stumbled to a nearby power pole in the middle of the hotel parking lot. It was as far as I could go and I desperately needed to hold on to something. I grabbed the pole with both hands to keep from falling on my face and emptied my stomach onto the snow, over and over.

I continued to heave even though my stomach was empty. I later learned that was known as ‘Calling Ralph’. That’s when I started to pray. I thought I was going to die, to be honest, and then I thought I might stay like that, holding on to a wooden power pole, standing in freezing snow… in my underwear sick as a dog. My mother’s scowling angry face came into my mind. The same face she used when she caught Ann and I examining each other’s private parts in the hedges in front of our house. We were first graders and just curious, but it was obvious that we had committed an atrocious sin.

Remembering her face, while holding on to that pole, gave me that same feeling of guilt. Maybe not quite a mortal sin, but surely not a good thing. I asked God to intervene since it was obvious I was without the power to do anything myself. I also made a promise to God as an exchange. I said, “God, if you will let me live, I promise never to be in this kind of situation again.” I know you can’t bargain with God but I was desperate for something to happen.

I was young and new to drinking strong drinks, as in my first time new. Earlier that night, I had gone to the bar on the ground floor of the hotel with a friend, James Little whom I had met at work. We were looking for a couple of young ladies and somehow thought that the cocktail lounge might be a good place to start. James ordered a drink, I don’t remember what, and since I had no idea what anything was, I ordered my book hero’s favorite drink. Mike Hammer drank cognac and that sounded all right with me. Turns out it was better in the book for Mike than in real life for me.

We met two girls and after several of those cognacs, I was feeling no pain and enjoying telling the females that my buddy and I were there on business as IBM employees. That was the early, early days of computing and immediately set us apart as well-to-do salesmen or something. It was an enormous lie, of course. The truth was, both of us worked at the huge Albertson’s warehouse. James worked in the warehouse proper and I drove one of the two delivery trucks. I mostly delivered nonperishable goods to the three area Albertson’s Grocery stores.

Later, we met two mutual friends and decided we would spend the night at the hotel since we had had too much to drink to drive home. We all went up to a room on the fourth floor with a couple of double beds, and what went with us was three-fourths of a case of Lucky Lager Beer. I’m here to testify that beer on top of cognac is not a healthy recipe in case you were thinking of trying it.

The four of us passed out sometime after midnight. I woke up around three in the morning, Mountain Time, to go to the bathroom. I had some trouble walking to the hallway facility and on the way back to the room, I felt the first wave of nausea. I stopped and held up the wall for a few minutes and then tried again. The ill feeling swept over me and I stumbled past our room to the next door, which turned out to be the exit to the fire escape.

Somehow, after my ordeal at the power pole, I made it back to the room, wet with snow and smelling like puke. I don’t remember going back to bed, but apparently I did go back. Later in the morning, I woke up along with the other three sinners. My moaning was interjected between their cursing of various levels. I wasn’t any better at cursing than I was at drinking so I practiced just moaning. I did well, as I had gotten a head start on the moaning from my early morning visit to the power pole.

Those were the worse looking three boys I have ever seen. I was trying not to laugh as I thought it might hurt and interfere with my moaning, so I pulled my pants on and went to the bathroom. One look in the mirror quieted the laughter. No one who knew me would have known it was me. Even I wasn’t sure it was me.

Back in the room, someone suggested that what we all needed was the hair of the dog that bit us. Evidently, the way to cure a hangover was to get another hangover. I told my new friend James that I planned to stay as far away from those dogs as possible. A couple of bottles of beer showed up and were passed around. The smell made my stomach heave. It was enough to remind me of my power pole vow. I waved goodbye to everyone and slipped out the door.

I went back to the bathroom and tried to wash my face and comb my hair. My clothes were okay as they had been safe in the room while I was holding onto the power pole. I did the best I could but it wasn’t a lot. My stomach was empty of course and I got the silly notion that I should eat something. Turns out I was right, it was a silly idea.

It was still lightly snowing and as cold as frogs when I stepped on the sidewalk outside the hotel. I snapped up my old high school letter-jacket and looked around. Across the street from the Owyhee and its parking lot was a small diner. The sign simply read, RAY’S. According to my watch it was after nine a.m., but breakfast was still being served. I checked my wallet and to my surprise, I had some money left. I entered the restaurant and looked around. Nothing fancy but it seemed clean and cheery which was good as I added neither to the atmosphere.

To be continued…