We just graduated from high school, my best friend and I. It was summer in 1979 and we are still friends today. But this story isn’t about our friendship. It is about this one hot, lazy, crazy afternoon, which for some reason stuck in my mind, but barely registers in hers.
Lyn owned a car, a green mustang. On a Sunday afternoon, we took a drive because we bored, and because we could. Fresno was not an exciting town but we were excited for our new-found liberty from school and total lack of current responsibilities. We saw fun and laughter everywhere. So we drove out to Woodward Park in North Fresno. We watched people play volley ball, enjoyed the sun, and chatted with some guys that asked us to meet them there the following week end for a BBQ! It was a success… we were high school graduates, although still 17, and desirable women! The world lay before us.
We stopped off at a coffee shop on Blackstone Avenue on the way home. It was one of those diner- type places with vinyl bench seats in all the latest orange and green colors. Today, we would be reminiscing like I am now, and the décor, retro. But then and there, at that time in our lives we were planning: Next week, a BBQ? We had a good laugh imagining being bored enough the following week end to look for those guys, what were their names? Would we find them or some other such interesting boys? We also speculated if Lyn’s boyfriend of two years was ever going to propose. And we discussed me leaving for Texas in the fall to attend college. But even fall seemed a long way off. We had the whole summer ahead of us.
In the back of the restaurant, was a table of 5 or 6 people; two men and three or four girls. The blonde man seemed interested in us, I noticed. I told Lyn and we tried to cipher whether he was looking at Lyn or me; I hoped me. The darker haired guy seemed older, quieter, and shorter the way he was slumped in the booth. He was altogether, not attractive.
The blonde man approached our table and made up some excuse to start a conversation. While he was talking, I remember thinking; I knew he was going to come over here. How did I know? And that may have been the very beginning of my woman’s intuition, something which served me well (intermittently) over the years. He stood there and chatted politely, he then said, “My friend wants to know if you ladies would join us at our table”? My brain said: Your friend? I was immediately disappointed. He wasn’t interested in me at all; only his friend who didn’t have enough backbone to come over and speak for himself.
I looked at Lyn for a clue. She played it cool, as she always would. I was thinking “no” and I was pretty sure Lyn was too. I no longer wanted to keep his interest or impress, I said: What for? He then invited us to come over for a drink. I didn’t know how to continue the conversation to nowhere, so I simply repeated everything he said: a drink? He said, well… a sly smile, "... to party". “oh, a party”? That went on for a few sentences, then I just said, “No thank you” I explained, “We don't party”. There was additional polite conversation, about how we should join them, but I mostly remember feeling disappointed. Adult men still send their friends to speak for them?
Lyn and I headed to the bathroom to giggle together on our way out of the restaurant. We attracted boys at the park, now older men in a restaurant. We were having a lot of fun for two girls who weren’t actually doing anything. It seemed odd since I made it all the way through high school being completely invisible. Lyn had her steady boyfriend. But I suspected she stayed with him because she thought she’d be invisible otherwise.
The ladies from the chicken-man’s table came into the bathroom. They were giggling, and talking, and hard to understand because of their heavy Asian accents. They were very friendly… oh hey one said, “You should come with us, he so fuuunny”. I stupidly asked where they were going. We paaaarteeee …. Hahahhaaaaa (they all giggle), “He Mista Uneeevaase, he funny, you come wit us”.
Over and over they kept repeating that he was in fact Mr. Universe, and that was why we should go “party” with them. It struck me that they weren’t interested in the slouching dark haired man, just his title. Is there an actual Mr. Universe we speculated? We had no idea. Lyn and I could barely get out of there before losing ourselves in gut-wrenching laughter.
My synopsis: He had to use his better-looking friend to invite women to “party” with him, and the girls had to “party” to be in Mr. Universe’ world. They all seemed happy with the arrangement. Lyn and I were just as happy to laugh about it in the car on our way home. Everything seemed suddenly worldly all at once.
Years later when he ran for Governor of California, his partying past came back to haunt him. Although he was better known for his action movies, the media regurgitated his Mr. Universe title, and his partying ways. "It was the 70’s" he kept saying.
I dodged a bullet. Even if he liked me, as my dear friend pointed out, he would have ditched me for a Kennedy eventually!
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