Coke Isn't It

I've had plenty of opportunities to do drugs in my life.

Plenty.

After all, I went to high school in LA.

And college in LA.

But thankfully I was able to just say no.

Don't worry, this is not going to be a blog about how I am better than you.

Because I’m not.

For example, I guarantee I've consumed more calories than you.

GUARANTEED!

And that's nothing to be proud of.

But when it comes to drugs, there’s one definite reason why I passed whenever my friends would offer.

My dad.

Actually a close friend of my dad.

He had three sons.

Had.

The first son died of a heroin overdose.

Then the third son died of a heroin overdose.

Leaving him with one.

The loneliest number that you’ll ever do. 

Those tragedies happened before I was born.

But from the time I was yay high my dad told me that story.

And it obviously... thankfully... scared the hell out of me.

Now if guilt by association was a crime, I'd be in jail right now.

I seemed to hang around plenty of people who traveled down that dangerous road.

They would offer.

I would say no.

And we would move on.

But there was this one time.

In college.

Of course.

A bunch of us took a road-trip to a nearby college for a wild weekend away.

We were at our hotel on a Saturday afternoon.

Most of my friends were doing things my dad would not approve of.

I wasn't.

Well sorta.

While my boys were being boys.

I decided to put a little pinch between my cheek and gum.

Tobacco.

The smokeless kind.

Now if you've never done it.

Try it.

I DARE YOU!

Once.

You won't do it again.

Hopefully.

In one word, it is the most disgusting horrendously gross awful thing.

Ever.

Unfortunately I learned the hard way.

At first the flavor was kinda ok.

But within minutes I was spinning more than the tea cups at Disneyland.

Within minutes of spinning, I was throwing up.

All while my friends were “just chillin”.

How funny is that.

I'm blowing chunks from something you can buy... legally...  at a convenience store.

While my friends were totally relaxed from doing something they bought on the street corner outside the convenience store.

I must admit, I always wanted to try mushrooms.

“Those” mushrooms.

But I never did.

The idea of hallucinating always seemed really cool to me.

I heard that if you put M&Ms in your palm while you were high on “shrooms”.

The M&Ms actually looked like they were jumping up and down on their own.

Beat that Pixar.

Here's the thing with drugs.

They are addicting.

This just in.

Even though my one-time dipping experiment didn't end so well.

The fact that I tried it once was the bad part.

No upside there.

Len Bias tried cocaine once.

On the early morning of June 19, 1986.

At 8:55am he was pronounced dead.

None of us know for sure if that was really the only time that Bias tried cocaine.

But that's what his mom believes.

And that's good enough for me.

She lost more than anyone.

More than the Boston Celtics.

The team that selected Bias with the second pick in the NBA Rookie Draft just two days earlier.

Ron Washington only tried cocaine once too.

At least that’s what he says.

It was the first week of July 2009.

Washington was in Anaheim.

Near Disneyland.

With his team, the Texas Rangers.

Washington was the manager of the Rangers.

The 57-year-old manager.

But for one night he lost his way.

And what made it worse.

Just a few weeks later Washington was told he was on “the list”.

The list of players and coaches to be randomly tested by Major League Baseball.

Washington knew the outcome of the test before the cup was wet.

Fortunately for him the story didn’t leak to the public for nearly nine months.

No pun intended.

But even though the baseball world didn’t know what was going on.

His bosses were told right away. 

Washington offered to resign.

They said no.

Instead his team had him attend counseling.

He went through the MLB drug program.

And came out the other side.

Safe.

It would’ve been easy for the Rangers to accept that resignation.

Or find another way to get Washington out.

Even with just one strike.

But instead they stuck it out with the man they entrusted with leading this team of young men.

And his team responded last year.

By winning their division.

And winning the American League.

And reaching their first World Series.

Ever.

And now, a year later.

More than two years removed from Washington’s momentary lapse of reason.

His team is knocking on the door again.

Four wins away from reaching the World Series again.

Eight wins away from being a World Champion.

Although it’s pretty easy to say that Washington has already won his toughest game.

On Golden Pound

I’ll never forget my first time.

The first time I went to The Palm.

The Palm Restaurant.

The swanky New York eatery.

I was probably nine or so.

At the time there was only one, maybe two, in the world.

Now there are 32.

Well back then, eating there was a big deal.

And that big deal was no deal at all.

It came with a big bill at the end.

You just didn’t know how big.

Until the end.

If my memory is correct the waiter came to our table and said.

“We have steak.”

“We have lobster.”

“And we have steak and lobster.”

I’m not sure there was an actual menu.

There were three of us at our table.

Me, my dad and my dad’s friend.

For some reason the friend was paying.

That was established before we sat down.

When the waiter asked what we wanted, I said.

“Lobster!”

At age nine, I had never had one.

So what better place to try one.

My dad quickly jumped in.

“No, he’ll have the steak.”

The friend replied, “He wants the lobster.  Get the lobster.”

I think our friend thought my dad was opposed.

Because it cost too much.

But the truth was my dad was opposed.

Because lobster is a shellfish.

And shellfish is a crustacean.

And crustaceans are not kosher.

This, according to the book.

The good book.

A book written like 5,724 years before The Palm was even invented.

Well my dad and his friend bickered for...  what felt like forever.

But eventually this nine-year old got his way.

His first lobster.

And definitely not his last.

There are very few things I enjoy more than a good meal.

Actually, there are very few things I enjoy more than any meal.

But a good meal.. WOW!

A good meal can consist of anything.

Anything from an overpriced steak.

Or lobster.

To a greasy mexican burrito on an LA street corner.

And everything in the middle.

Quality is important.

Usually.

But quantity can go a long way too.

Enter the Golden Corral.

A cardiologist’s version of Disneyland.

For “around” ten bucks, you can fill your stomach.

And fill your arteries at the same time.

Such a deal.

Now if you’ve never been, picture this.

A room the size of Phoenix.

Stuffed with food.

Not just any food.

Crappy food.

Mexican food.

Chinese food.

Meat Loaf smothered in ketchup.

Fried Chicken.

Something that looks like Pizza.

Fried Shrimp.

Fajitas.

Corn soaking in butter.

“Homestyle Yeast Rolls”.

More butter.

And that’s just the left side of the room.

It’s like a college cafeteria on Barry Bonds.

There were more fried things than a Texas electric chair.

All for “around” ten bucks.

That’s what the commercial says.

Not the catchiest of slogans.

But I guess it works.

A few nights ago my son and I joined a friend and his son for the Corral’s newest baby.

Endless BabyBack ribs.

All-you-can-eat.

Just like everything else in that place.

A place where Grease is certainly the word.

The word for the filmy substance left on your hand.

Even if you don’t eat with your fingers.

But that didn’t stop us from going back.

And back.

And back again.

A fresh plate every time.

Of course.

By the time we were done, I’m sure we had passed 10,000 calories on the richter scale.

And we weren’t the only ones.

At the table right next to us were two men.

Two men not much older than us.

Both eating plenty.

And both using oxygen tanks.

Just to breathe.

Presumably there was one tank for each guy.

Sharing is not allowed at the Golden Corral.

Now forget all those catchy slogans.

There’s your commercial.

Two guys.

They can barely breathe.

And nothing is going to stop them from the Endless Ribs.

Now that’s dedication.

Of course it wouldn’t be a meal without dessert.

And the Corral has plenty.

Including a sugar free vanilla cake.

And sugar free blueberry pie.

Two desserts that nobody touched.

As crazy as that sounds.

The Corral has everything anyone would ever want.

From soup to peanuts.

Everything that is.

Except lobster.