EXOTIC DOWNTOWNS

“Leaving On a Jet Plane” by Peter, Paul and Mary was the theme song of my early 20s. Back then I was always leaving on a jet plane, leaving behind crying loved ones to land later embraced sometimes by other loved ones. I had a lot more loved ones when I was young, single and almost cute.

Compliments of Uncle Sam I got to see the downtowns of some of the world’s greatest cities. “Downtown” by Petula Clark became my mind’s soundtrack. All of the cities’ downtowns, midtowns and uptowns were like my personal playgrounds to chase girls, see the sights and soak in some culture. Here are a few snapshots of my memories.

I was first stationed outside of Washington D.C. which provided many dating opportunities. There was this beautiful girl, with no discernible sense of humor. We shared a sullen Thanksgiving meal together then she fell asleep afterwards, while I was kissing her. I left quietly that night for good. The only thing we had in common was eating.

There was a bundle of British girls who invited us to a party during the April 1968 riots in D.C. after Martin Luther King Jr. was killed. As I drove thru the riot area to get to the party, there was an explosion behind us and a ball of fire blasted out from a store front that filled up my rear view mirror. I gunned it and a cop car shot out of nowhere, siren blaring and light whirling, speeding to the fiery scene.

D.C. burned that night. We could see it from the party apartment’s balcony, but a party was a party, so we partied; callow shallow youths that we were.

Next I was posted to England 60 miles north of London, only an hour’s train trip away. I took that train often. While walking back alone to my London boarding house at 3 a.m. once, I stumbled upon a rather rowdy ruckus.

Some squatters in an abandoned downtown building were throwing rocks and rubble at a cordon of coppers surrounding them. The Bobbies ebbed and flowed, while ducking the debris. A post pub closing crowd was cheering on the squatters and heckling the police. A grand time was had by all, except the cops.

London has Speakers’ Corner in Hyde Park, where anyone can literally stand on a box and spout their political philosophy or whatever. One starry eyed Chinese communist boy was praising the communist ideal of equality and compassion for the masses, till he broke under a vicious barrage by British hecklers and shouted “When we take over the world I will personally stick bayonets into your stinking bodies!”

The English can be very disrespectful of authority and political platitudes. That’s why you gotta love those crazy bastards so much, those sucky superior limeys.

I took some leave to explore Europe a bit. Paris is the most beautiful city I’ve ever seen with its wide white avenues, magnificent monuments and the sensuous River Seine, where on a boat trip I once saw some buck naked Parisians sunbathing on the river bank in broad daylight. That’s enough to make your Super 8 movie camera jiggle uncontrollably when you zoom in.

The American Bar on Paris’ Left Bank had a unisex bathroom, where you could give a pretty girl the eye, then follow her into the toilet, where she’d enter a stall and let loose after too many American beers. That’ll blow the bloom off the rose fast.

Once in Venice, Italy my roommate and I took a long grim gondola ride where the gondolier regaled us with stories of Americans bombing them during WWII. Strolling past Rome’s ancient ruins I held hands with a Canadian girl, I’d met only an hour before, as she serenaded me and some lecherous Romans with her lilting singing voice from her choir days.

Later in a letter she recounted how she’d been clipped by a car while riding her rented moped down the mountainside of Monte Carlo and ended up in a French hospital. That meant we’d never meet again as we had planned to in Rome.

The song says that “The lights are much brighter there. You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares, so go Downtown.” Downtowns were full of promise when I was young and in love with love and life was full of young girls’ laughter and kisses.

PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED IN COMMON GROUND MAGAZINE