We were twenty years, or so, past the Vietnam War, and somehow the effects of it now seemed to be illuminated for many veterans. That certainly was the case for Brian. After having a panic attack that landed him in the hospital he was in therapy at the VA and had come out of it with a 100% disability. It was nice for our family to have a stable income, but the VA didn’t help him emotionally or psychologically to deal with his memories and the effects of the war.
They prescribed drugs which did nothing to help, and now he was drinking quite a bit. He’d stumble in late. I didn’t know where he had been or what he was doing, and I didn’t really care. Night after night, after a long day in my motherly role, just as I was drifting into sleep he’d wake me and keep me up droning on about whatever was on his mind, usually some irritation he experienced during the day. In my exasperation I had resorted to violence more than once hoping he would see that he was pushing me to extremes. He was eroding my sanity and self esteem. It was an extremely unhealthy situation and I was increasingly unhappy. I was at my wits’ end.
It was at this time that Motorhead was playing in New York City at the Limelight. Not surprisingly, Brian had also been increasingly jealous of my interest in Lemmy, so I didn’t even consider suggesting going to New York, though I was determined that somehow I would get there. Our relationship had become too toxic, and he never would have agreed.
Instead, I made a plan to escape in the morning while he was still getting dressed. “I’m taking the car and will be gone for the day” I shouted to him in the bathroom in the midst of shaving. “Take care of Sylvie.”
He had no time to react other than to dart out of the bathroom to yell “What?!!”, as I ran out the door.
As chance would have it, I had just met a woman in a dress shop who wanted to get down to New York City but had no transportation. This was a blessing for me since I was a bit terrified with the thought of driving into Manhattan, and she could guide me in exchange for the ride. So we were off together on an adventure!
We were halfway there when it began to snow. It was soon clear that we were driving into a full blown snowstorm. It worked for me, in that traffic had slowed down to a crawl making it less scary to drive into the city. She got me to the hotel where the band was staying and we parted ways.
By the time I connected with Lemmy at the hotel it was looking like the Limelight may not be opening that night because of the weather. We all went over to the club with hopeful expectations that the show would still go on. Phil and I explored the place while we waited for the final decision. The eerie, hollowness of the stone staircases in the back is my most poignant memory, while outside the snow was whirling into sculptured snowdrifts, and the streets were almost empty, so surreal, and unusual for New York City.
I’d never even heard of this amazing place, the Limelight, once the Church of the Holy Communion, “a stunning example of Gothic Revival architecture”, and now a vibrant, and apparently notorious nightclub. We sat in the back rooms till they let us know a decision had been made. The club was not opening, so we dejectedly went back to the hotel.
I expected I’d be driving home late after the show, but now the New York State Thruway heading towards New England was closed and I was trapped in New York City with Motorhead! I was delighted with this turn of events, but for the inevitable phone call home to tell my husband I couldn’t get home till the next morning. I knew I would have hell to pay when I got home.
Lemmy offered to get a room for me, but I knew Phil would appreciate company. That I knew, since he often called me in the middle of lonely nights in a hotel room, and so I said I’d just stay in his room. Phil was always accommodating and fun to be with in his quirkiness, without uncomfortable sexual expectations.
So I took a deep breath and called Brian to tell him I was in New York and the roads were closed and I wouldn’t be able to get home till the storm had passed.
“You’re where? Brian shouted.
“New York City I responded”
“What the hell are you doing in New York City?” I don’t even remember what I told him. I certainly didn’t say I was with Lemmy, though he must have suspected as much. I never told him and he never asked.
In the end, Motorhead became the final catalyst that ended my marriage. The fight that ensued when I got home was violent and out of control, but at last, Brian agreed that we had to part ways. I have to admit that I dramatized my distress hysterically that day in order to impress upon him the severity of the situation in no uncertain terms, and it worked. He was gone that very day.
But in the meantime, I woke up in New York City the next day, and as the snowstorm had stopped all traffic, Phil, Mickey, and I walked down the middle of the streets of Manhattan surrounded by fresh, gleaming white snow and sunshine, to have breakfast and margaritas. Phil, hilarious as always kept Mickey and I in stitches with his unrepeatable, off color jokes. It was all together a magical morning!
