Tunesday : Running Up That Hill

Running Up That Hill
Written and Performed by Kate Bush

If I only could, I'd be running up that hill.
If I only could, I'd be running up that hill.

It doesn't hurt me.
Do you want to feel how it feels?
Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me?
Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?
You, it's you and me.

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building.
If I only could, oh...

You don't want to hurt me,
But see how deep the bullet lies.
Unaware I'm tearing you asunder.
Ooh, there is thunder in our hearts.

Is there so much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?
You, it's you and me.
It's you and me won't be unhappy.

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building,
Say, if I only could, oh...

You,
It's you and me,
It's you and me won't be unhappy.

C'mon, baby, c'mon darling,
Let me steal this moment from you now.
C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling,
Let's exchange the experience, oh...

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems.

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems.

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems.

If I only could
Be running up that hill
With no problems...

If I only could, I'd be running up that hill.
If I only could, I'd be running up that hill.  

I loved Kate Bush and Running Up That Hill, so even though it came out long before the story I'm about to tell, I'm happy to have found a place in my history for its angsty vibe. I've written a lot about how happy Dave and I were over the two years I worked at the unfortunately-named nightclub club, Sha Na Na's -- the money was great, the atmosphere at work and at home was a nonstop party, this was the time in which we got married and began looking for our first house -- but like all good things, it had to end eventually. And in a way, that's a good thing, too: at some point we needed to grow out of the party days and switch over to a nine-to-five life. So, while in the moment it might have felt like I was running up that hill, that just prepared me to enjoy the view from the top and choose my pathway down the other side. I've told this story before, so I'm just going to cut and paste it into the right place in my timeline:

Near the end of my time at Sha Na Na's, the weekday clientele began to change. There were some Asian men who came in, and as many of them had young white girls with them, I figured they were probably pimps and drug dealers (but since they just came in for a few drinks, weren't breaking any laws on the premises that I could see, what could I do but serve them?) The owners of the club were Wayne and Joanne -- a couple from China who had made a fortune in the bar industry and they treated us girls like daughters (even though Joanne was barely older than us -- the mistress who broke up Wayne's marriage, but whom he refused to marry). There were also a couple of other guys who began to come in, and since they didn't hit on me, I would often sit and talk with them when they were the only customers. (One of these guys is important to the story, but since I can't remember his actual name, I'll call him Keith.)

One Saturday, near the end of the night, I noticed that one table of Asians had an open case of beer under their table, and as I knew that could get us shut down, I went and told them they couldn't have that in the bar. The men all stared at me like I was nothing, so I went and told a bouncer. Turns out everyone knew about the case of beer -- it was probably stolen from the back hallway -- but Wayne's instructions were to ignore it and hope they leave without trouble. When I asked Joanne about this later, she said, "Those guys are Vietnamese and very scary. You can't do anything to them because in their country it was very bad, they saw terrible things, and now they just don't care. Call the police, they'll go to jail, but then they get you."

The whole vibe was getting to be less fun, but the money was still great and I loved my bosses and coworkers and Dave also worked nights -- I carried on.

One weeknight, "Keith" came in and he was the only customer and I sat and talked with him for quite a while. Then a group of Asians -- whom I now knew to be Vietnamese Boat People -- came in, and they were loud and obnoxious and ordered drinks and made rude comments to me, and as I only had a female bartender (the brainless drunk, Lise) on with me, I felt really uncomfortable. Keith was watching without watching, and the next time I stopped at his table, he asked me if everything was good. I said sure and he told me that if I needed to, I could tell those guys that he was my brother. I thanked him, and when I next went to the Asians to see if they wanted another round, they asked me who that guy was and I replied nonchalantly, "Oh, that's just my brother."

Mistake. About 15 minutes later, another 5 Vietnamese showed up and they (with the other guys from the table) swarmed Keith and beat him and stomped on him and one guy smashed a beer mug against Keith's head when he was already unconscious. Then they ran away and I called 911 and the still unconscious Keith was taken away in an ambulance. The bartender phoned Joanne, and when she showed up and I told her the story, she said it was all my fault -- they probably thought me calling Keith "my brother" was a warning to them that their pride couldn't ignore; it's an Asian thing. I told Joanne that I couldn't work there anymore if this is the way it was going to be from then on -- as bad as I felt for Keith, what if that had actually been my brother? Ken had certainly visited us before and dropped by the bar, and he doesn't look any more like me than Keith did. Joanne explained that the gangsters had gone too far and Wayne would take care of things; he was not a man to be disrespected like that. (And I never got the sense that Wayne was into drugs or any other underground activity, but I respected him and believed Joanne.)

A couple of weeks later, on a busy Saturday night, a bouncer took me aside and said that a group of Vietnamese, with their leader Miaygi  (because the guy totally looked like Miyagi from The Karate Kid -- but what kind of serious kingpin takes on a nickname like that? -- but that's the reason for the header picture) came to the bar and asked the bouncers to point out which guy was my husband. They wanted revenge for me calling the police, and since they weren't going to beat me up, they wanted to put the hurt on Dave. Conrad thought he was being a real pal to me when he looked around, and even though Dave was standing nearby, he told Miyagi and the gang that he wasn't there that night. I freaked out. At closing, I told Joanne the story, and as she tried to walk away shouting over her shoulder, "What you want me to do about it? You don't know these people!", I gave her my notice, and two weeks later, I was gone.

The stranger part of the story was realising later that Miyagi lived a block away from me and Dave and this so-called hardass spent his days pruning his hedges and rose garden with a couple of yapping poodles running around his feet. As scared as I was of violence in the bar, we weren't actually afraid of this guy in his domestic setting, and in any case, we had bought our first house and moved soon after.

So that is, finally, the end of my Sha Na Na days, and next week I'll be able to move on to what came next.