And there was this party house that somehow me and my group of friends got involved with. It was some really young guys that lived there — like they were all out of high school, but still teenagers. It was always a very relaxed place to be. So most Friday nights, we ended up there, just to hang out without having to worry about getting fucked with.

Now, we were all skaters and hip hop heads. Not delinquents at all, but we were pretty much a closed crowd; didn't really associate too much outside our group of ten or twelve. So, I don't know, somehow it came about that there was a group of jocks that had beef with us, because, I don't know, high school, whatever.

I was just starting to get into DJing, so every once in a while when I was feeling brave, I would pack up my gear and haul it down to this party house and spin records on Friday night. Good times.

Until they finally showed up.

I didn't see the initial attack, but one of the jocks broke a beer bottle over my friend's head from behind (what a pussy). So, everyone clears the front room of the house where I was set up into the front yard and driveway. I, of course, notice that the room is suddenly empty and, like any good DJ and record nerd, start thinking about how I'm going to protect my gear.

I finally hear someone yell for me, presumably because I was the only one of the group to have a cell phone (90's lol) and could call for reinforcements or whatever.

Venture out to the front of the house, where I see all my friends —minus the one who was hit with the bottle and was presently on the ground, bleeding and struggling to stay conscious— currently entangled with the four or five jocks that had rolled up on us. Realizing they were outnumbered, one of the jocks retreats to the back of his vehicle momentarily. One of my friends gets aggressive and follows him to hopefully get in a few blows and make the retreat permanent.

Jock had parked his car kind of sideways across the end of the driveway, presumably to clock anyone from leaving. This also meant that the tail end of his truck was partially in the street. I couldn't see what was happening, as it was dark and they were behind the car, so I start heading that way because I can see and/or hear nothing. As I get closer, my friend emerges, running like the wind towards me wearing this face of sheer panic. I was confused, because he had this jock on the ropes as far as I could tell.

Jock comes out of the shadows, walking like fucking Jason Voorhees with, I shit you not, a pick axe.

He had his eye on my friend who had confronted him behind the truck, so I was able to dodge him. But the crazy fuck chased my friend into the street —Plumb Lane, one of the busiest in Reno— through traffic with a motherfucking pick axe.

At this point, one of the dudes that lived in the house decided shit had officially gone too far, so he goes inside and locks the door. With all my gear still inside, with a record still fucking playing.

I'm standing there in the driveway, watching my one friend get chased through the busy street by a pick axe-wielding drunk jock, wondering if my bleeding friend on the ground is going to be okay and watching the rest of my friends hold up their skateboards as weapons and keep the rest of the jocks at bay.

I'm just like, fuck this, I just want my gear to be safe. So I did what I knew would clear the area quick. I held up my cell phone and yelled, "I'm callin' the cops, fuckers!"

And I held the phone up to my ear and bluffed.

Luckily no one called my bluff.

The jocks quickly get in the truck, burn rubber getting out of the driveway, but not before Jason leans out the window, with the pick axe in both hands, and screams, in a very disturbingly high pitched voice, "We know where you are!"

On the way out of the driveway, the idiot pulls into oncoming traffic to get to the other side of the street (three lanes in each direction), before flipping a squealing U-turn and causing an accident in the oncoming traffic. So, the police did eventually show up anyway.

I thought I was going to be in deep shit because, of the two cars that were in the accident, one of the drivers was going off to the police about there were all these kids fighting in the street, and that that's what had caused the accident. None of were drinking or smoking that night, so the cops asked us a few questions, but ultimately didn't seem to really care.

My gear never left my bedroom for about five years after that.



"I wasn't sure if I was lost or running away again. . ."

http://austinato.bandcamp.com

http://www.discogs.com/lists/Favorites-of-2016/269401