[Look for your weekly fix from the one and only Henry Rollins right here on West Coast Sound every Thursday, and come back tomorrow for the awesomely annotated playlist for his Sunday KCRW broadcast.]
A few days ago I was at the Jersey Shore. It was evening, and I had a few hours for sleep before my 0430 wake-up call, for a dive class that would allow me to go deeper than I was certified for.
I had just finished a long day of location shooting out in the sun and was wondering how I was going to hold up for three deep dives with people I had never met.
We pulled into the parking lot of my hotel and witnessed a fascinating scene. If you have ever watched an episode of Jersey Shore
, you are acquainted with the cast. The males: Very strong, capably violent, dull-faced and empty-eyed. The females: Scantily clad, loud, dangerous. They don’t speak so much as yell, threaten and laugh. They seem to be having a great time.
The hotel adjoined a large nightclub, where shitty music came out of an opened side door and the young men and women looked as if they had just stepped away from a Jersey Shore
casting call. Girls, their asses hanging out of their butchered jeans shorts, staggered out with men who were built like tanks. They were yelling and weaving toward their very nice cars. I wondered how people who look like this make the kind of money for a Lamborghini. I saw my chances of getting some sleep as fairly slim.
All of a sudden, a girl came out of the side door and fairly fell into the arms of one of the massive security men. She looked like she had received a pretty solid punch to her right eye. I wondered if her boyfriend was a southpaw. Her top was gone and she was down to her bra.
From across the parking lot, a barely dressed female approached her and, in a very loud voice, said she was a “fokin tramp.” The bra girl went crazy and tried to attack her. The security guard was hanging on to her for dear life.
A few knuckleheads came over and attempted to pull the yelling girl away. She broke free and resumed yelling. The two were trying their hardest to get to each other. All the guys thought it was funny and, as more females left the venue, they started taking sides. It was getting pretty crazy, and I was hoping these two would not have a chance to engage.
As I watched all these young men and women “doing their thing,” it occurred to me that this could be reality-show gold. Documenting them in their natural environment would be boring, but dropping them into Kabul and rolling on that would be incredible.
The girl who had been yelling at the one in the bra was picked up and put over the shoulder of one of the gorilla men and carried away, cursing a blue streak nonstop. I found a different hotel to stay at for my few hours of rest.