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This web site is part of David H. Citron's |
 and South Florida Radio History |
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| Still Celebrating Our 10th Anniversary! 1995-2005 -- -- And now moving to RadioPages.net | ||
1982: PARTON ME!
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PARTON ME!Yes, That is the correct title!Copyright 2005 by Greg Budell “Never take a laxative and sleeping pill at the same time” (Parkland, FL -- March 2005) ... March kicks off with Parkland’s annual concert and I will serve as the extinguished MC.
I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you about something I guarantee will NOT happen at this year’s event. Ironically, March also happens to be National Laxative Appreciation Month. Once again I will draw from my experience, strength and hope -- coupled with a guest appearance by singer Dolly Parton, to explain the dangers of laxative abuse. I learned the lesson of a lifetime on a Friday night in March, 1982. The Dade County Youth Fair (as it was then known) was in full swing, and every radio station in town was hosting free concerts featuring actual hit performers. My station had snagged Dolly Parton! This was a coup, because Dolly was surfing her highest tide of popularity. Her mega hit “9 to 5” was #1 when we made the announcement to our listeners. The entire air staff was mandated to attend the show and appear on stage to say hello to Dolly. I will do my best to describe this evening in the most tasteful way possible, given the delicate condition I created for myself on the drive down to the show. Ah ... well ... I had become rather bloated days before the concert. My digestive system was dysfunctional and it had been many days, perhaps a week, since I ... ahh ... had relief from this uncomfortable, ‘backed-up’ condition. Facing an onstage appearance in front of 15,000 people, I was determined to shrink my burgeoning belly. Our pullover staff shirts were the uniform d’jour, and I couldn’t suck in the excess. I had heard about Ex-Lax, of course, because their commercials had been running on TV forever. Keep in mind that I had achieved a rather substantial “local celebrity” status, thanks to numerous billboards, thousands of minutes of TV spots, and press coverage. I was the “Peck’s Bad Boy” of South Florida, and by the time Dolly was due, people recognized me by face constantly. With my elephantine ego in place, I could not risk the embarassment of buying Ex-Lax in an Anglo area where someone might notice me, and call the Miami Herald with the news. So, I drove miles out of my way to a Little Havana pharmacy to purchase a 16 pack of the choclatey time bombs in relative anonymity. I immediately took 2 pieces figuring I’d be ready to go by the time I reached the Fairgrounds. It didn’t happen. I arrived about 90 minutes before show time, so I took 2 more hoping to speed the elimination problem. “This junk doesn’t work very well”, I thought. So I took 4 more an hour before the concert’s 8PM start. Nothing. In a final act of desperation, I finished the box, just as everyone was gathering in our fully catered backstage “green room”.
The entire staff began slurping down shots, and was quickly 3 sheets to the wind. Everyone except me. I had a hurricane brewing my my belly. My belly was not shrinking. To my horror, it felt like someone was pumping air from a gas station hose into it and the pressure grew with each second. Soon, my gastro-intestinal system started making noises like a battle sequence from Star Wars, and they were loud enough to be heard by anyone within a couple feet of me. I felt the blood drain from my face, and I was sweating profusely on a cool 65 degree spring evening. The misery index kept rising. Radio legend Rick Shaw (now on Majic 102.7, mornings), my boss at the time, came up to me and asked if I was OK. We were in our third year together at WAXY-FM and he knew me like a book. I told him I had a “stomach problem”. I did not share the Ex-Lax episode with him. The gang huddled and worked out the sequence of on-stage introductions. The evening jock would introduce our daytime hostessoid, who would bring on Rick, who would bring on me. I had the honor of bringing out The Dolly. I went to the bathroom to check on my appearance, and discovered why Rick had questioned me. Raccoon eyes, an ever-inflating stomach and pearls of sweat had gathered around my entire hairline, back and front. Dolly came in and we all got to meet and talk with her. She couldn’t have been nicer! Sweet, petite, and of course it was hard to ignore those 2 enormous assets that Johnny Carson once offered a million dollars “just for a peek”. That’s a half-mil per bosom! We all posed for photos and prepared to launch the show. I yanked my shirt from my pants because there was no hiding the Zeppelin growing in my gut. Then, as Rick Shaw was onstage whooping up the packed outdoor stadium, the Ex-Lax went to work. In an instant, my stomach felt like it been dropped from the Empire State Building’sobervation deck. Sweat was streaming from every pore. As Rick Shaw shrieked my name to a wonderfully responsive crowd, “it” happened. As I stepped towards the stage in white jeans and blue staff shirt, nature called. I didn’t walk on stage. With my legs and knees pressed together, and contracting my gluteous muscles to the maximus, I shuffled out to the microphone praying I wouldn’t “let go” in front of 15,000 fans. Hari-Kari would have been my only option in that worst-case scenario. I abandoned my planned warm up act, grabbed the mike and simply said, croaking through a dehydrated throat, “here she is, for all you 9 to 5ers enjoying a night out, please welcome DOLLY PARTON!”
My back end had become Vesuvius on the cusp of eruption. As I shuffled off the stage, Dolly came out, made eye contact with me, and stopped. She grabbed my arm, and very sincerely asked if I was all right. I said “I will be in a minute”, thanked her and then shuffled offstage to the nearest bathroom, about 200 feet away. The crowd roared as she came on-stage. 45 minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom drenched in sweat, feeling drained, and looking like I took a bleach bath. Five minutes later, I was back in for a 15 minute encore. Dolly was a huge hit, but all I heard from my backstage ‘seat” was her voice echoing off the restroom’s tiled walls . Dolly was long gone before I felt capable of surviving the hour drive home. For nearly half the trip I had to keep my legs extended and knees locked to prevent disaster. Once home, I dared not to be within proximity of the bathroom for the remainder of the weekend. My symphony of stomach sounds finally went silent and I was back on the air Monday, weakened and with a still-bloated belly. I learned my lesson. To this day, I eat All Bran twice a week. One of the most physically miserable weekends of my life was behind me.(no pun intended) That I managed to avoid the ultimate humiliation in front of 15,000 people, was simply a matter of “pot luck”. |
Remember the glory days of WFTL 1400?  Collectible LONG TIME WFTL 1400 FAN Mouse Pad, Mini-Poster, and T-Shirt , picturing memoribilia going back to the 1960s... from Adult Music to Hot Talk.
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