In 1979 the people of Iran chased out the dictator “Shaw of Iran” and took the United States embassy and its staff hostage. The United States was all wired up and people did what any good American might do then, hold a party dubbed “Drink Until the Hostages Come Home” that was written on the banner draped across my neighbors house, and they did just that, all 444 days. Me? I was a twelve year old kid trying desperately to save my mother’s Olive tree, and her too for that matter. And I had a desire to belong, to something other than a completely dysfunctional household. That’s when I stole a bottle of scotch from the cabinet and went to the arcade, a kid with a bottle or handful of pills could find friends real easy, and I had both.
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