Yesterday Rebecca and I were walking down the street, and she started telling me a story about meeting her boyfriend in rehab. She was 15 years old, and her parents shipped her off to rehab cause she was in trouble and getting out of control with the partying. This was back in the day, D.C. in the 70's. There werent too many punks back then. In fact, if you were crazy enough to be an outright punk, you were looking to get your ass kicked if you didnt have a crew behind you. So there she was, the only punk in juvie rehab. The other kids were smitten with her, so she rallied them together, and turned them onto the music, and made them become punks. She busied herself with the task of cutting everyones hair and educating them in the politics of Fuck Shit Up and Dont Take Any Authoritative Crap From Anyone. The staff of the hospital did not approve of her influence, and immediately laid down a new rule: If you dont come in a punk, then you cant become one, or you get thrown out of rehab.
I almost fell down on the street laughing.
And then she told me how her boyfriend cam into the rehab, and it was love at first sight and they got out of there, and ran away from home together. His mom was the head of the drug program for the city, under Mayor Marion Barry (i know, can this get any better?) and she had juice with the authorities, so every cop in the city was out looking for them. Mind you- if youre a kid, with a mohawk youre not gonna be hard to find, cause kids have no homes of thier own, so hiding out is not always easy. They stuck out like sore thumbs. So they ended up at some gig, some early punk show, and the police raided the place looking for them, found them, drug them out of there, and it was all very dramatic and Rebel Without A Cause.
I cant remember all the details because I had alot on my mind, and I dont remember the moral of the story she was telling, or if there even was one, but what stuck out was: You cant be a punk, if you dont come in a punk!
what kind of horseshit is that?
