Sunday, July 26, 2015
So I have a Patty Hearst story, a weak Patty Hearst story but still it counts.
I did not get a chance to tell it last night.
So, back in the day, 1975 or whenever. Patty Hearst, an heiress, had been kidnapped by a radical group, she ended up joining them and she was on the lam for quite a while.
I was working, graduated from UCSC. I had a (now departed) roommate Sara who was a bit of a hard liver. Now the Bay Area was cool but we were in Sacramento, a valley town, which everybody knew, was nowhere near as cool. Plus we lived a bit north and east in a suburb, Carmichael which was even worse. But we had this really cool adobe house in a eucalyptus grove. With the funkiest swimming pool ever, it was just cement and you filled it with water and when the water turned translucent green, somebody had to dive in and pull the plug.
OK, back to Patty Hearst. She's in hiding at this time. Sara and I are at a laundromat in Carmichael. Doing laundry I guess. We're hanging out and Sara says, "Hey, guess what, there's Patty Hearst, over there!" I looked over and said "C'mon Sara, why would Patty Hearst be hanging out in a laundromat in Carmichael? Really!" "Still, it kinda looks like her." I'm not buying it. "Nah, she would never be here."
Later we find out that Patty Hearst and her SLA buddies were indeed holed up in Carmichael. That probably WAS Patty Hearst. There were other sitings but nobody could ever believe it.