by Crying in His Beer Philly…
I first saw him sitting there at the bar all alone. He was handsome: clean cut, sporting a turtle neck and blazer, looking very much like the all-American boy. I would soon find out that wasn’t the case at all.
The year was 1978. Happy Days was the top-rated show on television, the Bee Gees were the world’s biggest-selling band, and I was a coed at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. A Chi Omega, no less. Tonight was a special night: the night of the Big Game, the Rose Bowl for our University of Michigan Wolverines. So I went down to the bar to meet my friends and watch the game.
About the Author
T Philly Loyd loves fat chicks and cheap beer, though not necessarily in that order. He has worked for Forbes and McGraw Hill, both times running for his life as if waking up from a nightmare. His dream is to one day move to Hollywood, take up serial killing, and walk away with a Razzie. Until then, he lives with his mom in Dumbass, Texas. PhilipLoyd.com
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