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THE RED LOBSTER CLUB
When I was in college I was in the Red Lobster Club. The club was sponsored by Red Lobster, and once a month the company would pay for us to take trains to various Red Lobsters around the East Coast.
One of the rules of the club was that we had to be absolutely silent during the train rides. If anyone spoke they would not be allowed on the next trip. We took this rule very seriously, and the moment we stepped on the train we all zipped our lips.
I can remember staring out the window of the train, watching the fields of cows and the little farmhouses zip by, always wondering if the next stop would be the “Red Stop” or if we would just keep going. I loved these train rides through the forests and backwaters of Eastern America. They gave me a chance to think about my life, and work out whatever problems were bothering me at the time. I would spend hours gazing at the countryside, marveling at the hidden America that is only revealed from the window of a train. Those were beautiful moments for me, but like every bright thing the Red Lobster Club had a particularly dark shadow.
You see, many of the students in the Red Lobster Club were experimenting with drugs and sex so to accommodate us Red Lobster hired A Danish sex addict who designed a berth on the train that we all called “the vanishing room”. There was no light in this room, and the walls were sound proof. I only visited the vanishing room once and when I did someone immediately put their foot in my mouth and someone else gave me a “toot” of cocaine.
I will never forget that moment. It was as though I had suddenly stepped into the Garden Of Eden. The pungent, salty, taste of the anonymous foot paired perfectly with the bitter ooze of cocaine as it ran down the back of my throat. I suckled on the foot for a blissful 3 hours, and then returned to my seat, confused and disoriented. The gentle kerthunk kerthunk of the train magically matched the thump thump of my pounding heart, while the moon rose over an open field. This was America.
That night I was trembling with confusion when the intercom of the train played the Red Lobster jingle that indicated we were at our “Red Stop”.
“Lobsterfest time with red lobster we know what you love the most.
At our lobster fest we do lobster best no one else even comes close
Have a tempting lobster trio if you’re in the mood
Our tails are the best at red lobster fest
We know how you love sea food”
That night I ordered a Lobster Morne’, French Fries, and a diet coke, I ate the meal, but all I could think about was feet and cocaine. I remember looking around the table at the other members of the club and trying to figure out whose foot I had sucked on. It was impossible to tell.
The next 6 years of college flew by like autumn leaves.
