Shindig. This is me a long time ago and I recently rediscover this picture and scanned it. I’m at this huge Frostburg field party called Shindig. That night we decided to camp out. The only spot left was near this guy, Buck’s trailer. It turned out that Buck was a ‘Nam vet who wasn’t too happy we were camping on his property.
We plied him with beer and talk and all seemed well. Some of my friends even went into his trailer and if the legends are to be believed he claimed to have enough nitro to blow a whole in the mountain we were currently camping on.
We were young and dumb and thought nothing of it. We even blew off Buck’s friend that asked us to help restrain Buck if things got out of hand. I’m not sure if it’s hindsight, but I remember Buck’s friend being genuinely nervous about our close proximity to Buck. He didn’t seem to be just messing with us to give us a scare.
As the night wore on we were all standing around the fire laughing and conversing. Buck announced that everything would be fine as long as we were all quite once he fired his .45 in the air three times. We all kind of laughed.
Buck than proceeded to pull the .45 out and let off three shots. We all froze. My friend Mike, who is now a DC cop, finally broke the silence with the deadpanned line: So how about those Redskins. Within minutes we all jumped in our cars and squealed wheels out of Buck’s front yard.