No Longhairs Allowed

I Know That I Miss You, But I Don’t Know Where I Stand

Mexican Customs
Dec. 1970

I couldn’t get Jolynn out of my mind. I missed her. Denny, a
regular at the farm was on his way to California to deliver
a car to his mothers’ friend in San Francisco. I jumped at the
chance to go with him. Everything was paid; Denny was even getting  paid to drive the car. To see Jolynn, I would hitchhike to San Diego.

Traveling in a nice car, as might be expected, everything
went smooth; that is, until we picked up two hitchhikers. They were traveling together, but they weren’t together. Rollin was a “head”, a nice guy, and was on his way home to San Diego. He was returning from visiting friends on the East Coast. Mike, on the other hand, was a 17-year-old juvenile delinquent. He was a product of the Philadelphia slums and was on the run from the law for stealing cars. His destination, as far as I could tell, was the Pacific Ocean.

After we got used to each other, it became kind of fun
traveling together. Denny even decided to drive to San Diego and
drop Rollin and I off before delivering the car to San Francisco.
The problems began when we hit Arizona. We had been smoking dope and in Flagstaff we stopped to buy wine. Nobody knew Mike had a weak stomach. He puked all over the backseat of the car. Even after we pulled over and cleaned it up, the smell wouldn’t go away. When we arrived in San Diego, we dropped Mike and Rollin off and then went to the address I had for Jolynn. Denny, in order to give the car time to air out, planned on hanging out for a day before delivering it to the lady.

I was a little apprehensive knocking on Jolynn’s door, but
when she opened it and her face lit up, I knew everything was going to be fine. She was as happy to see me as I was to see her, and, after I told her the story, she was okay with Denny spending the night too. At first it was awkward. Pat, Jolynn’s sister, took the bedroom. Jo and I slept on the living room couch that converted into a bed, and Denny slept on the floor. Because Denny’s charm flowed fast and furious, he was able to extend his stay into an extra day, but when he failed to show enough appreciation for a dinner Pat cooked, he could not save himself. Except for the fact that Denny’s presence made it impossible for Jolynn and I to get any bonding done, it was still good for me because he kept Jo’s sister occupied. Pat, a real bitch, put up with Denny because he fed her ego, but he was no longer welcome when he did not finish his dinner. Pat was a good cook, but any food would taste good if Stalin served it.

Denny made the best of the two days he spent in San Diego. The three of us spent a day at Disneyland and another day trying to get into Tijuana. Everybody enjoyed Disneyland, well maybe not everybody; Jolynn had been there a couple times before. At Tijuana, Mexican customs wouldn’t let us across the border. Apparently, they were having problems with hippies and drugs, so they passed an ordinance prohibiting longhairs from entering Tijuana. I guess they thought my hair was too long. After they turned our car around at the border, we headed back to San Diego. Nobody was happy about that.


About bwinwnbwi

About me: Marvin Gaye’s song, "What’s Going On" was playing on the jukebox when I went up to the counter and bought another cup of coffee. When I got back, the painting on the wall next to where I was sitting jumped out at me, the same way it had done many times before. On it was written a diatribe on creativity. It was the quote at the bottom, though, that brought me back to this seat time after time. The quote had to do with infinity; it went something like this: Think of yourself as being in that place where infinity comes together in a point; where the infinite past and the infinite future meet, where you are at right now. The quote was attributed to Hermann Hesse, but I didn’t remember reading it in any of the books that I had read by him, so I went out and bought Hesse’s last novel, Magister Ludi. I haven’t found the quote yet, but I haven't tired of looking for it either.
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3 Responses to No Longhairs Allowed

  1. frizztext says:

    I am amused by your title
    No Longhairs Allowed
    maybe that could inspire me to write an essay about a lost generation 🙂

  2. bwinwnbwi says:

    For some it was a voluntary opt out of a culture we did not want to participate in, but, still, I would love to read your essay.

  3. bwinwnbwi says:

    Denny’s charm, natural though it be, was also motivated. After another day, hopefully, the puke smell in the car would disappear. Fortunately for Denny, upon delivery, it went undetected.

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