Let's Do the “Time Warp”

The sidewalk salon drew an eclectic Wednesday afternoon crowd: Sean (no Old Crow!), Mark rolling a cigarette, Donny doing Donny, Jamie straddling a bicycle wearing a backpack with a flute protruding from the bundle, a tattooed, scantily clad woman asleep on the concrete, and two other non homeless looking young dudes I'd never seen before.

I was on my way to retrieve two Portland weekly newspapers from street racks and read about all the various entertainment offerings that held absolutely no appeal to me. I thought I might see Mark on my errands and in anticipation stuffed two tins of fine pipe tobacco in my back pocket.

The gang greeted me with hosannas. I gave Mark the tins and Sean was giddy at the prospect of another Old Crow infused chaw. Jamie was very enthusiastic, at the tobacco, and indeed toward my presence. It's a damn good feeling when people are enthusiastic to see you.

Jamie was calling “the floor” for a vote on something and using expert parliamentary procedure.

I congratulated her on that. Jamie laughed and said she knew parliamentary procedure quite well because long ago in high school she'd won debate prizes and belonged to the Future Business Leaders of America. And now she was using those skills to call for some vote on some issue related to the salon.

Yes, a select few homeless citizens of Sellwood believe in and practice true democracy better than the entire national Republican Party and a majority of the US Supreme Court combined.

What the precise issue up for election was, I didn't discover, but the voice vote was unanimous and the salon moved onto a new topic—The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Why and how that cult movie came up? It was the Old Crow Book Club that's why and how!

One of the young dudes mentioned that the Clinton Street Theater in Portland still played the movie at midnight on Saturdays, a fixture on the city's cultural life since the 80s. I had attended once in my early 20s and remembered it was insane.

According to the dudes, the weekly screenings and associated hi jinks with the theatergoers had come roaring back after the peak of the Pandemic and somehow that warmed my heart.

Mark said he took a date to the Clinton Street Theater for a showing of Rocky Horror after his prom back in the mid 80s!

Jamie then launched into a story about how she taught her nieces the “Time Warp,” a dance associated with the rockin' song of the same name in the movie.

I knew the song well. I once played it on an electric guitar with a teenage rock band on a Halloween open mic in my classroom. It was the loudest I'd ever turned up an amp and my ears rang for the rest of the day. I mentioned this to the salon.

Jamie buzzed with energy and said I should play it again. She'd pull out her flute and jam with me. On the sidewalk! Holy Jethro Tull! We'd busk together and set out a tip jar!

We then recounted the zany camp film, the actors (Barry Bostwick!), the absurd costumes and songs. We sang some lyrics and were about ready to break into the “Time Warp” dance right there! If not for the absence of Old Crow, we probably would have and raised Meat Loaf from the dead and achieved some sort of weird American cultural distinction.

At some point, I had to get going. I loved the crew but it was always a brief one-afternoon stand and then I was gone.

I walked away laughing and 20 yards later found one of the coconuts from a previous visit. I picked it up, turned around, and yelled, “Hey you Old Crow, Rocky Horror sons-of-bitches!” and tossed the coconut overhand toward the salon. It smacked down on the middle of the sidewalk ten feet away from the gang and Sean scooped it up like a shortstop fielding a ground ball.

The crowd went nuts.