I do remember Glenn (the owner) and
his horn of some kind.
Adding
to Blair's drinking age stuff, NYC clubs remained lax in their carding. I had changed
my birthdate on my PAPER NY drivers license. Easy to do for me, I just wet the 1 in front of the 3 until it disappeared. Then
put it in a window wallet.
That was fine and dandy until I went to a
Long Island club to see the Mosquitos in 1986. They demanded to see the other half of the license, that I had in a box back
at home. Never thought I'd need it. It was infuriating, as I was twenty (at the time).
Sometime during the spring of '84 (I think...maybe
later), I was invited to co-DJ. I don't remember the gal's name, but she had a good sense of humor.
Well into the evening, I decided to spin a lovely ode titled "The Longest Fart In
The World". Many patrons were bemused. Those in the know were amused, what with the unmistakable phonics of a lot of
beans coming through the PA. Glenn (the owner) came to the booth, hands clasped together in delight, and thanked me just
for being alive.
I'd
also like to add that, for most of us, The Dive made us feel like we could make it (whatever IT was). And for that brief
two years, '83 & '84, there was a sort of magic that I have not felt since.
