Remembering those that passed.

As we lead up to Halloween, I am going to try to honor those who no longer with me, but remain in my heart.

When I first started bouncing there was a bartender named John Sitar. Yanni we used to call him. One night after a night of heavy drinking we decided we want to drink some more, where do we go. To the boat, of course. Yanni could hardly stand, either could I for that matter. Yanni insisted on driving, well I was fricking ready to pass out too, I said, “Surre Yanni”.  For a guy who couldn’t walk a straight line, he was thee best driver drunk. Hell I was impressed, he drove better then me when I’m sober.

Now here’s the messed up part. A few days later we were sober, I went to the store with Yanni. The guy is driving like a maniac, we almost get into an accident, I’m hanging on to the dashboard for dear life. I look at him, I scream, “That’s fucked up, I feel safer when your driving drunk, then when your sober. Let’s go do some shots so you don’t get me killed!”

Many drunk adventures we had, many times we would just be sitting at the bar just the two of us, laughing our asses of at just stupid stuff. Actually Yanni was there when the name River was given to me, and he’s the major reason I don’t tell anyone. It is a story for him to tell, and if he isn’t here to tell it. Then I won’t tell it as well.

Yanni was a good guy, didn’t say much. But he was always there for a friend. He decided to take his own life because he thought if this girl left him, his life would be over.  I think of him often, and I hope if he’s the bastard driving me to heaven, I pray he’s drunk as a skunk, or else I probably won’t make it.

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