The first time that I went in to the Record Exchange, I was about 12 years old. I had saved some money from allowance so that I could buy a Parliament record. I rode my bike a fairly long way to get there, hoping that the record wouldn't be more than twelve dollars and some change. The LL Cool J record that I bought last time was only ten so I couldn't imagine that it would be more than that. I mean, who else but me had even heard of Parliament and George Clinton? No one that I knew, that was for sure. They all loved the Beatles, Billy Joel, Madonna, all kinds of boring crap. Give me Theme From the Black Hole on headphones please. Its too funky for you all.
After locking up my bike, I could hear a commotion just inside the doorway. A man on the business side of the counter was yelling at a disheveled looking customer. I don't remember what they were saying but I remember that it was strong enough language that I was nervous. quickly, the employee had enough and came from behind the counter. The disheveled man was holding a worn out plastic bag with a few tapes in it. The employee had a wild look about him. His hair was unkempt and his eyes had dark circles around them and appeared sunken in and bugged out at the same time. He snatched the bag of cassettes and flung it to the ground in one motion. The cassettes scattered and I jumped back out of the door to evade any possible cannon fodder.
My instinct wasn't necessarily to run, I don't know why. I guess that I wanted to see what was going to happen. I did look toward where my bike was parked to determine how far away it was in case I had to get away in a hurry. When I turned that way, there was a tall, thin policeman running in our direction. He brushed past me and grabbed the customer who, in my eyes, was already getting kind of beat up. Slamming the man against the inside of the doorway, he exchanged words with the wild eyed employee. Apparently they knew each other well. The customer was soon in handcuffs and his tapes were soon crushed into pieces by the Officers boots. They pushed out of the doorway and the employee waved me inside. "Its ok, come inside." he said to me in a rough voice.
When I went in, a much younger employee asked me if I needed help. He couldn't have been much older than me. He had long hair and was smoking a cigarette behind the counter. I asked him for Gloryhallastupid by Parliament. He took me right to it. That really surprised me for some reason. Like I was the only person who knew about this magical thing called P-Funk. The record was more than I could afford but the cassette wasn't and that was just as good. I raced home later and didn't even think enough of the even to tell my Mom. As I rode home, I thought "That place is crazy" I didn't know that this place would soon shape my life or that one day I would be mentored by the Wild Eyed man who I would soon know as Richard.
