Bill was one of my very favorite people at the museum. I would go so far as to say he was a bit of a father figure, or at least a father figure in the way a master pimp trains an underling how to properly fold a coat hanger into a switch when a bitch doesn’t act right. He quickly took me under his wing; I guess every Yoda needs his Luke.
Bill fancied himself a bit of a philosopher when it came to the art of living.
Bill: Hey, can you hand me that pack of Newports?
Me: Here you go.
Bill: Thanks. Do you want a cigarette?
Me: Nah. I don’t smoke.
Bill: That was a test. You failed. The next time you’re jerking off wondering why you can’t find any pussy, remember what I just taught you. I hope you’ve got a girlfriend already.
Me: You know I’ve got a girlfriend.
Bill: I know. That was another test, which you also failed. Enjoy your long summer evening whispering sweet nothings to your…you’re what, a lefty?
Me: Uh, wha…?
Bill: Your father didn’t train you properly, but I’m going to help because I like you. You see son, when I played for the San Diego Chargers, the most important lesson I learned is that once you start thinking about which way to juke you’re going to get slammed head-first and waist-deep in the opposing team’s bucket of Gatorade. You should know this, Mr. I-Play-Violin. Don’t you practice so if you freak out on stage you go on autopilot?
Me: Yeah. It’s called muscle memory.
Bill: I don’t know about all that shit. What I’m teaching you is pussy memory, and when you hear “Do you want a cigarette?”, you shouldn’t have to think to say “Sure. What else do you like to smoke?” I’d rather you lose this job because you instinctively asked the director to suck your dick than see you than miss out on grabbing a single nipple because you fucked up when a girl asks “Do you want a cigarette?”
Me: I guess that makes sense.
Bill: Now goddammit, you just did it again.
Me: Ha! I totally did!
Bill: It’s not funny. I can see we have a lot of work to do.
As much as I feel awkward admitting it, Bill was certainly successful with the ladies. Granted, they were always in their mid to late fifties and not nineteen with guys descending on them like flies all the time, but whatever he had going for him was a winning formula. And he did play for the Chargers for a season. When he first told me the story, I thought he was full of shit until I found his name on an old roster. Apparently he was a walk-on at the behest of a special teams coach he’d known in high school, and on his first kickoff return he took it to the house. He must have been fast as fuck, because he would have been a pretty small guy even in the mid-seventies.
He made the team, but only lasted two games. As he tells it:
“I thought I was the greatest thing in the world. In my second game we were playing the Raiders, and I took a kickoff return and thought I could go head-to-head with a guy you might have heard of by the name of Jack Tatum. I tried to jump over him, and he basically took my knee and shoved it up my ass. Blew every ligament in the fucking joint. Really, I should have known better and just taken the hit. Now do you understand what I’m trying to tell you about girls, son?”
I think it's safe to say I didn't, but I will say Bill was a good guy—just one who was very focused on his priorities, and I can respect that. He was fifty, and the pursuit of enjoyable female company is one of the great pleasures of life. Besides, both he and I knew that all the stuff about getting laid was entry level when it came to the endless mysteries and enjoyment of women.
Bill was also a good man. He went up to HR with me when he saw Chad point a gun at me for the second time and stood his ground when Chad stared him down while being taken away in handcuffs. I will talk about that later. I actually really miss Bill, and I’ve tried to find him a few times over the years. Alas, a ranger is hard to find in a big city.
I will leave this with what is perhaps my most memorable conversation with Bill about pussy. In this case, I later learned that his radar was not only spot on, but the reconnaissance he had been doing on my behalf from a place of pure kindness was worthy of nothing less than tears. It is my hope that every young man could have a grandfatherly mentor like him, albeit perhaps in a different field once one has a serious relationship.
Bill: Ben, come here. I want to talk to you about something.
Me: What’s up Bill?
Bill: I saw you looking at that pretty young intern and I wanted to give you some advice.
Me: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Bill: The cute little one with the black hair and perky chest. You know the one.
Me: I have no idea what you’re talking about. The closest thing matching that description in this building is you, and your tits suck.
Bill: Don’t be an asshole, I’m trying to help you. Come here. You see that girl right there?
Me: No…
Bill: The one right there. Behind the elephant.
Me: Oh yeah. I’ve never seen or talked to her in my life.
Bill: Dammit, you’re missing the point. I’m going to give you some advice about women.
Me: OK. Fire away.
Bill: I’ve been around the block quite a few times. I think you know that. I can tell she likes you.
Me: Bill, neither of us knew the other existed until you pointed out a pony tail behind a stuffed elephant’s asshole.
Bill: Look, never mind all that shit, OK? These are just details. Shut up and listen for a second. I’m trying to tell you something very important.
Me: Alright. What is it?
Bill: It’s very simple: You need to fuck her.
Me: What?!? That’s it, Socrates?
Bill: Yes. In fact, that’s all you need to know about every beautiful woman. If you decide you’re going to fuck them, then, and this is the most important part, fuck them. Life is that simple. Do you understand? Now do you see how all that stuff you said about not talking to her or meeting her is just smoke and bullshit in a young man’s mind that talks him out of a sure thing?
Me: Do you even know what rape is?
Bill: Well, of course you’ve got to be a gentleman about it, stupid. I’ve taught you better than that.
As you can see, at least if you’re into that Alpha/Beta shit, Bill was decades ahead of his time. Actually, that's not fair—Bill wasn't into pussy for its own sake. He was a true gentleman in the style of the Old World. I’d seen him with several of his lady friends and was a perfectly respectable gentleman who treated the woman he was with like a queen. At least until he was bored and it was time to get what he termed “something strange”. I later learned this meant “new pussy”, but still though. A knight whose most polished piece of armor is his codpiece can still be chivalrous.He was a great Jedi, and I hope somewhere on his personal Dagobah he’s training a new pupil about the light side of the Force.