So much nostalgia on Facebook these days.  One particular Page, “Old Laurel (Mississippi) Memories” brings out the best and most.  There are thousands of friends, most eager to tell a story or comment. Most likely it’s because many of my FB friends have approached the time in their lives when the remembering of the past is more fun than massaging that new ‘pain’ they encountered when they got out of bed this morning. True enough for me, to be sure.  I have enjoyed the pictures and the names of old places haunted half century ago. 

One posting brought back to mind the “5^th Avenue Grill”.  It’s hay day coincided with my time to begin life’s experiments.  Those include those somethings that burn inside.  Those things that caused wonder, so exciting and wholly consuming. Let’s call them “The Naughties”.  Naughties: things so egregious so as to include smooching, and cursing, and beer, oh my! 

The 5^th Avenue Grill story began one summer night in 1963 during a local election year.  It began at DQ.  You know what that was, PDI today.  The almost identical food and pavement today, but not the routine.  In that time, DQ was much more a routine than a place.  The car park was jammed with the boys’ cars, the driveway ringed with the girls’ cars.  They glided round n’ round to see Who was out that night.  Truth is that the same routine was taking place in every small town in America. 

One car drove by, and I got a wave.  It came from a smiling girl in the back seat wearing a bright top and a big smile.  The big car with three girls slowed, and I hopped into the back beside the smile. I had been on several dates with that smile lately. Once to themovies, another for just a ride.  She was fun, a cutie with crescent eyes, the first ones I remember noticing. Her best friends were the others in the front, Sisters.  One of them was watching for a “James Dean” type.  Sure enough, he was, sitting behind the wheel of his Cadillac car.  We whipped in and all hopped over into the one car that fit us all.  A 6^th climbed into the back with Sarah and me. 

With a “2 miles/gallon” roar, off we went up Magnolia Street.  The Cadillac knew the way to 5^th Avenue, a drive to the Grill some 3½ miles North.  The Grill was situated in the fork of 5^th Avenue and Hoy Road, some 250’ up from the intersection.  One could drive through the lot. On the Hoy Road side, it was dark, and parking a car on the dark made for some safe underage opportunity to share a brewskie.  The car hops in those days had one question only, “What do you want?” 

One asked and our driver ordered a Tallboy Bud in his coolest voice . All the quarters came out, we paid, and sat back to wait.  The Budweiser came, and it was quickly opened with a “Phizzzup”.  One sip, then it was passed to a Sister snuggled close by. She followed his with her sip.   

Suddenly from the 5^th Avenue side of the drive-through, came a roaring auto, its lights brights straight at us. It stopped at our door and was, as our eyes adjusted, followed by a Police car.  Out jumped two men in suits, one policemen, then others in tow.  The “suits” appeared at our door.  Their mission surely was to stop teenage drinking in Jones County,  save a soul here and there from evil drink, and if some election year publicity came along, all the better.  

We were trapped, nowhere to hide.  Nowhere to run, well, ….no, let’s not. It didn’t take long for them to start the lecture, but then the threat became real. Consequences of our hateful crime were worse than a lecture. Transferring us all to police cars, we were taken downtown to City Hall into an upstairs meeting room.  All our parents were on their way.

There in the room, when the question was asked, “Who was drinking?” total silence indicated total denial.  But, said Suit #1, “I can tell who was drinking.” Then and there, he began the smelling of breaths.  It was a mistrial, so to speak, with only two convicted, olfactorilly speaking.  You already know whose breath was fouled, yet we were all convicted by association.  Then came the real lecture wiht all the parents sitting to the rear of the room.  

It all ended soon after, terrible scolding from the Suits and an even worse one on the way home. 

The next day we were on one hand tarnished sinners. On the other, flashing stars in the crowd at DQ. 

So that’s my 5^th Avenue Grill story, and I am sticking to it.  Wonder what happened to Sarah?