Funny how mention of the smallest things can bring back memories, especially at this time of year when one often waxes nostalgic.
A friend just made a joke about prune juice and I was reminded of my short-lived career as a go go dancer. During a summer break from high school, I ran away to the Catskills, and ended up in a resort for seniors where I worked as a busboy during the day, and a go-go girl at night. Being quite petite, and energetic, I took to the dance floor like a fish to water.
My first evening on stage, there was an older gentleman in the front row, my guess is he was about 80, but then I was 16, so anybody over 40 looked ancient to me. Guess I must have gotten a bit carried away, in my mini skirt, with the music, and when I looked down at him, he heaved, collapsed in his chair, and died. I panicked, and ran off the stage. I thought I was responsible for what looked like his heart attack, but management assured me it wasn't his heart, it was an overdose of prune juice. My career as a go go dancer ended right there
I've never been able to look at prune juice the same way again.