Today’s “Lesson from the 80’s” involves a few minor infractions of the law. So if my parents are reading this, they should probably stop now. OK, now that they’re gone, allow me to tell you a story about two guys going to a concert. One of my predominant partners in crime from the late 1980’s was a very good friend of mine named Mark Sasser. You may recognize this name as the illustrator on all of our children’s books. But before he was a beloved and award-winning illustrator, Mark knew how to have fun and push every boundary to the limit.

That’s why I knew we were in for a good time when he came up to me in the hallway in school our senior year and showed me a couple of tickets. At first, I thought he had scored some tickets to the Cap Centre in Landover, MD, where we used to go to watch WWF wrestling matches (yes…this is before it became WWE). But not this time. This time, Mark had secured tickets to Slammer’s, a somewhat shady bar just over the state line in God’s country, West Virginia. Slammer’s was known for bringing in some decent bands on the weekends and that Saturday night was going to be no exception. Mark and I were going to see the metal band known as Faith No More.

Faith No More was extremely popular at the time, thanks to their chart-topping hit, Epic. The video featured an iconic image of a fish out of water flopping around and MTV must have played it every hour on the hour. Needless to say, Mark and I were stoked about going. Now, still being a high school student, I had a curfew. I had to be home by 11:00 on the weekends. Mark assured me that the show started at 9:00, so we were in good shape as far as time was concerned.

Saturday finally rolled around and we headed out to Slammer’s. We arrived, flashed our tickets, had our hands stamped to signify that we were under 21 and grabbed a table in the middle of the room. It was your typical nightclub (not that I would have known that at the time). The bar was on the back wall. Two-top and four-top tables filled the majority of the open area. And a stage was built out from the opposite wall. The place reeked of alcohol and sweat and the music from the jukebox was so loud, we had to shout to each other to hold a conversation. And we loved every second of it.

9:00 arrived and I was ready to rock out to Faith No More (even though I only knew their one song from MTV). As the band took the stage, I immediately realized that these guys were not Faith No More. Their name was Circus of Power (an awesome name for an 80’s metal band, I know) and they were the opening act. I looked over at Mark and, as if he could read my mind, he shouted, “Don’t worry. You’ll still be home by 11:00.”

Circus of Power played for an hour and finally left the stage. Now it was time! Time for the main event! Time for Faith No More! Or so I thought. Would you believe there was a second opening act? I can’t remember this band’s name, but they all had the 80’s hair band image and they all wore football jerseys (which was a pretty cool look), but all I could think about was my curfew. I looked at Mark again, expecting him to calm me down once more. This time, he just stared at me and shrugged. There was no way I would be able to stay and watch Faith No More and still make curfew.

It was time to make a decision. Did we call it a night and go home or stay at Slammer’s and finish what we started? It was the classic permission vs. forgiveness situation. And, like I so often did in the late 80’s, I made the immature choice. I decided we’d stay and enjoy Faith No More and I’d deal with my father’s wrath once I got home. Remember, there were no cell phones back then. I couldn’t call or text to let him know what I was doing. Sure, I could have gone to a pay phone outside, but it was cold and that was a little inconvenient for me.

While this band played, our waitress came over to our table and asked us if we were ready for a couple more beers. Mark and I shot quick nervous glances to each other. She obviously had us confused with another table. Not only did we have stamps on our hands prohibiting us from drinking, we both had half empty Cokes in front of us. Always being ones to seize opportunities, we both smiled and said, “Absolutely!” It looked like the night was picking up after all!

Our waitress returned a few moments later with two bottles of Bud Light and set them down at our table. Mark and I picked up our drinks, toasted each other and prepared to take our first swigs. I say ‘prepared’ because before the bottles could ever touch our lips, a bouncer was at our table confiscating them from us. He was a very large man in what appeared to be a size Medium Slammer’s Security T-shirt. “That’s your one warning, boys,” he said, as he walked away with our drinks.

Oh well, we thought. No harm…no foul. Anyway, it was almost time for Faith No More to start. It was a little past 11:00 at this point. About that time, a girl who Mark and I knew from school approached our table. We didn’t know her that well. She had graduated about three years ahead of us. “Where are your beers?” she asked us. She was definitely in a party mood and wanted to make sure everyone else was too. We told her we weren’t drinking and she told us she could help us out with that problem. She left and returned a few minutes later with two bottles of Coors beer. We each took one and thanked her.

Mark and I didn’t even have a chance to toast this time. Immediately, a bouncer grabbed both us both by the back of our shirts, lifted us up and led us to the front door. Another bouncer took the beers from our hands. When we got to the front door, the bouncer literally tossed us out into the gravel parking lot, where we both landed flat on our faces. It was a scene straight out of Road House. But unlike Patrick Swayze’s character, these bouncers were not nice.

As we got up and dusted ourselves off, I head the emcee from inside shout, “Ladies and gentlemen…give it up for Faith No More!” So there I was. Getting ready to go home to face my dad (who I knew would be up waiting for me) and not even having the satisfaction of getting to see the band, for which we had waited all night, perform.

In my younger days, I would always justify these situations from my youth as well worth it just for the stories that originated from them. After all, this was just making memories, right? However, now that I’m a father of a teenage daughter and a pre-teen son, I have a slightly different opinion on nights like these. The bottom line is this. We were someplace we shouldn’t have been, doing something we shouldn’t have been doing. And nothing…and I mean NOTHING ever good comes from situations like these.

Granted, it took me another couple of decades and a few kids to realize and accept this truth. But that’s exactly what it is…the truth. We have choices everyday. To engage in activities we know won’t end well or to simply avoid them and find more productive alternatives. On paper, it’s not a hard decision. In the real world, it’s not always so black and white. Short-term pleasure can lead to long-time pain. I can’t remember for how many weeks I was grounded after this stunt, but I can guarantee you it wasn’t worth the extra hour spent at Slammer’s!

The next time you’re in a situation where you need to make a choice and are on the fence about what to do, ask yourself this: What can I do right now that my future self will thank me for?

Also, if anyone ever hears about a Faith No More reunion tour, please let me know. Mark and I still want to see them perform live.