A HOT'S SUMMERS NIGHT

THE STORY OF MY EYE.placed here by request,plus an attempt to bring a better class of ads!
When you have supported me enough,this is where I will move to,sunny Mediterranean Isle o' Crete,my dream place.

I value my life and my reputation so for those reasons,the names have been changed to protect the guilty!



The humidity was hanging in the low nineties,beaten only by the temperature,however there was a hotter place,the mood on the street.
For weeks all the papers had talked about was the "hooker" wars,and how we were fast becoming the murder capitol of the country,a title I 'm proud to say we hold to this day!(one yesterday,five houses down 17 years old,gone,stabbed).
I was in the middle of it all,as my place of employment,a bar in the middle of the hood, strollstreet,hooker walk.was considered a "neutral"country,where the girls could come for a rest,and the pimps would share a table and negotiate.
It was when negotiations broke down that I feared the most,since I was playing my role to the hilt,claiming membership in three sides at once.
Then there was my natural instincts to protect the ladies,and I don't give a rats ass what you do for a living,every women was a lady in my eyes(yeah,I had two eyes that night)
As if things weren't tense enough,just a few days before the Bloody Queen of England announced to the world,that she would be gracing our poor city in two weeks,and where would she be staying?
No,not my hotel,but the placecol Bess,built at the turn of the century(the 1900's for you youngsters)in the style that only Rail-Road money could afford,with suites that would,well,please a Queen.
The problem lays in the location of the Bess,well not officially on the stroll,you could not reach it with out crossing"hooker land"and the Town fathers in all their wisdom,had decreed that they would erase fourty years of racism and poverty,and the Queen would see none of this.Streets were being closed,store fronts renewed, flowers being planted where only hypodermic needles lay before.
This caused a Police presence that none of us were used to.I had even placed my pharmaceutical distributing concerns on hold(drug dealing for you innocents)
The girls were being rounded up in stings a a rate never seen before,only to be released the next day with a new determination to make up for lost times,and there was not then(or now) a shortness of willing customers.
What this new policy did,was not to curtail the trade,but it did drive it to new locations,and my bar lost it's neutral standing very quickly,as indoor locations were highly desirable compared to the street corner that now saw a cop on it where none where before.
Thus the stage was set for that evening Tuesday June 19th, 1989
Have I mentioned that I drank in those days?and that Tuesdays were my night off?
I was living in the hotel,I received a room as part of my high wages($6.00 hr)
so it was only natural that I would be found in the hotel,leaning against the bar,flirting with gorgeous Linda the bartender.
I was on about my 15th double of 80 proof rye and Coke,when Smelly,the waitress came up a said"you have to get down there,they're going to kill Ursala!
The "down there" was a hidden little alcove off the front entrance,where one went to deal dope,and the "they"turned out to be three pimps with 5-6 of their girls,and Ursala was alone,except for that 8" blade in her hand.
The secret to being a good Bouncer(and I was the BEST!)was not your ability to fight(though that was a big asset)but your communication skills.
Ninety nine times out of a hundred I would have handled that situation with a little street humour,a well placed compliment,and a warning that the heat was coming( a friendly warning,after all,I was"one of them"but tonite was different,my "steady" lady was stepping out on me,the weather was shitty,and I was PRIMED!
It was a close thing,two of the three guys were laying unconscious on the floor,and i was in the middle of a swing kick when it happened.I never fell,I never even "had my bell rung"(so I thought) but suddenly I found my self thinking,this isn't fair,I need a blade,and I was in the process of walking back to the bar to grab my shank,when suddenly I hear screams form the female staff,YOUR EYE!,DOUG!,YOUR EYE!
The blade had missed the eye actually,but it sank in far enough into the optical bone cavity,that it popped the eye out and was laying half way down my cheek,and that is why until this day,I blame the QUEEN OF BLOODY ENGLAND for the lose of half my sight!
I have had three operations on my eye attempting to re-attach the retina,all failed,it's now a dead lump,except it still wants to see,and the pupil if fully dilated in an attempt to claim back it's function,leaving me un-able to stand ANY light on it at all,thus my new aka PATCH!

That's all for now folks,hoped you enjoyed my little tale,and to insure you see next weeks new tale send a note to hdforbes@yahoo.ca with READ in the subject line