My Brain In A Box: The Headline Read...

This Episode of

My Brain Is In A Box:

The headline read;

" Mystery shrouds vanishing group clad in fatigues".

This is a true story. As are all episodes in this series.

" Mystery shrouds vanishing group clad in fatigues".

For several days that was a lead story in the Palm Beach Post newspaper during the Spring of 1981

Speculation ran wild, rumours flew, Sheriff's officers patrolled, knocked on doors, asked questions, reporters followed foot prints.

All because three teen boys took an afternoon stroll, got milkshakes, and goofed off in my Grand parents yard.

Somehow that series of nonevents made headlines, incited panic, created wild speculation and caused mass chaos.

Yes, this really happened.

And it did not happen.

Yes both statements are true.

Let me explain;

The three of us, Myself, Dom, and Randy, walked from my grandparents house on the corner of Whitehall and Plantation dr. in suburban, unincorporated West Palm Beach Florida one summer afternoon in 1981.

We  walked to the First Federal  bank branch , then located at Haverhill rd and Okeechobee blvd, where I cashed my paycheck from West Building Materials then we got milkshakes at the Baskin Robins,  then walked back to my grandparents house.

That is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

However,

That is not what the news paper reported! The next day, a Wednesday, the headline read,

" Mystery shrouds vanishing group clad in fatigues!" I remember reading the story and being upset that I had missed out on all the excitement. It had happened in my neighborhood, during the time my friends and I had been goofing around in my grand parents yard and walked down for the milkshakes. We somehow missed out on the man hunt, and the mysterious group of unknown military uniformed and heavily armed, men that had terrorized the neighborhood.

I remember calling Dom, all bummed out about our missing the excitement! How did we miss that the day before? Seriously! How had that gone down around us and we had been clueless? Dom and I even searched the neighborhood for spent shell casings, and or evidence!

It took a few days, an intrepid reporter, Actual accurate investigation and reporting along with my father, to put it all together.

We had somehow, strolled straight into the twilight zone, one step beyond the outer limits into the night gallery of real life imagination of confusion, panic, and God alone only knows!

We were merely three fifteen Year old boys, in search of milkshakes. Suddenly, bewilderingly swept up into a world of international espionage, terrorists, mercenaries, and anti communist plots to invade Cuba. Your atypical slice of South Florida daily life in 1981.

Yes this is a true story.

No, I did not exaggerate any details. I think the then and still , unidentified Vietnam War, Combat vet marinethat first spied the mysterious, dangerous trio, and subsequently reported the highly dubious activities, while also misidentifying one of the trio ( myself, the tallest one, with longest hair, and, obviously, cutest butt lmao) as a woman ate far too many toxic imported Chinese made crayons. Oh and, I forgot to mention, inflated our numbers. He was keeping up the traditions of inflated numbers from his  Vietnam war experience evidently.

Somehow, three teen boys simply walking down a quiet shell rock street had mystically transformed into a heavily armed squad of Cuban anti communist terrorists and one very tall woman, terrorizing suburban West Palm Beach.

Now to be fair,

The three of us were wearing a mish mash of BDU jackets, blue jeans, jungle boots and various concert/ band t shirts.

We also did notice a lot of Sheriff's cruisers along our route. We were even stopped and asked by officers once, if we saw anything strange while walking about. To Which, we truthfully reported, no we had not. Honestly we were the oddest spectacle out and about in the neighborhood that afternoon.

We walked along Whitehall, then through the trailer park, and then along Okeechobee blvd, then followed the same route back with an excursion along a canal bank and old trash incineration site.

Some words were exchanged with neighborhood " tough guys" ( also teens, kids) due to our attire and attitudes. None of us responded as the regular bully boys thought we should and, we made it clear we did not care about their pecking order or whatever. They found better things to do after one of them threw a home made fishing spear at us. It was returned forthwith, safely sheathed in the calf of the original owner.

I should also at some point tell the tale of badly planned, executed and generally screwed up ambush attempt by the same neighborhood wiseasses, when Dom, with a tube of issue face paint caused a bully to pee his pants while trying to hide behind a toddler, but that was about a year or so after this story so we will leave it till later.

So, my grandfather showed my father the news paper article.

For some reason which escapes me still to this day, this caused both my dad and my grandfather to look at me.

To be fair, at one point, the three of us had been sitting on grandmas sofa, sipping the liquid lightning syrup of her sweet tea when a nice sheriff officer and national guardsman knocked on her door to ask about unusual activities etc in the neighborhood that afternoon. Grandma did turn, study the three of us closely then turn back to the nice gentlemen and report, honestly, no nothing unusual.

The nice officer left, she asked me what we had been doing, which we honestly answered, whereupon we were shooed outside to wait for our ride to go to the Civil Air Patrol meeting and subsequent trip to Burger King that Tuesday evening.

Come thursday, and that evenings news article, in which the intrepid reporter followed my size 13 boot prints along the shell rock road and through the neighborhood, my father, took the article, followed the reporters accurately reported tracing of my footprints, put three plus confusion together and then required a conversation with parents and  reporters. Friday's paper then duly reported the whole sordid tale .

Come Friday, a corrected and noticeably not front page or headlined story was printed. My father, who also happened to be a Radio DJ, subsequently read the weeks newspaper stories on air that weekend.

We were famous! We were in the

The Palm Beach Post, and reported about on Country K radio, and no one except our parents believed or knew the facts.

For years rumors flew about mercenaries, and Alpha 66 and terrorists,.

It was 3 teens on a quest for milkshakes.

No one outside of immediate family believed it was us.

See, told you

It happened and,

It did not happen

and both statements are true.

Schroedinger’s cat has nothing on reality.

Blame it on,

The Bermuda triangle.

Life is replete with

Conundrums,

Quark, strangeness, and bizarre charm.

Now for the cultural commentary.

Had this occurred now,  2024, rather than 1981,

I am sure there would be either, tragic headlines of overwhelming police response and three teens killed by over reacting police.

Oops,

Scratch that,  had police in fact shot us, entirely due to our privileged position of being Caucasian teens, it wouldn't get attention period. That white privilege of poor white trash, where we are useful only to scapegoat, blame, toil, abuse, use, and die in liberal incited wars so we can come back wounded, damaged, spit on and abandoned. Yay my privilege!

No, that is not sarcasm. That was a bitter assessment of reality. So suck it soy toys.

Due to the other aspects , given the facts of the case, I am sure  we would see national headlines about the rise of right wing terrorism.

National debates, new laws restricting our rights introduced in Congress,

Regional lock downs,

Sweeps , searches, multiple arrests.

If We three milkshake questing terror fiends had been apprehended, we would likely have been accused of insurrection, attempting to over throw the government, conspiracy, and held illegally in prison,  water boarded, etc.

All while the standard incompetent agents of government and their media cronies congratulated themselves with great flagellations of masturbatory fanfare celebrating their self important delusions of grandeur.

I am so glad to have grown up in the 1970s and 1980s. I, as well as my friends would never survive in this brave new world.

Every time I see a news article or commentary,

I remember this episode from my life.

It keeps my perspective clear.

We cannot trust the media period.

The Care and Feeding of sarcastic Lycanthropic word smiths is expensive.

As are emotional support axes.

Any contribution is appreciated.