Coltan

At fifteen or so, my sister was going out with Neil and I was invited out for a night on the town in what was once called the Pot of Beer on Aston University Campus.

Before I went my sister had told me to watch Coltan after he had being drinking. She had heard from Neil he got violent when drunk and in particular after one session he had gone home got into an argument with his girlfriend and broke her nose. Not to be out done, his girlfriend later returned the favour with the help of a frying pan.

Neil was driving and by the time he collected me John and Coltan where already in the car. John in the front passenger seat and Coltan in the back. There was a brief introduction and then we were off.

The Pot of Beer was a student pub renown for the queues to the toilet particularly for the womens. Often you would find yourself passing a girl and her friend who came out of a cubical in the gents due to size of the ladies queue. It also had it’s fair share of drug dealers some of whom were not particular where they dealt.

“Want some gear? Speed, acid, Ive got good stuff”

“Nahh your alright mate”, I replied to the dealer in the urinal next to me.

Hours later I was watching Coltan’s intake of pints. He was not on a mission to get stark raving drunk rather on a steady slow pace and it made me wonder exactly how many he had to have before he crossed from good guy to violent drunk tear the place up guy. Apprehension set in though hidden from sight.

Coltan was not stocky or even broad rather a medium build and a few inches taller than me. He had a large bushy beard which met a moustache travelled the side of his face to meet his sideboards. He wore a large brown coloured bulbous hat, jeans and long coat. He looked more of a modern day hippy without the flares and world peace t-shirt. It was hard to imagine Coltan descending into a violent drunken lunatic but then I already knew looks could be deceiving.

How many had he had? I could barely remember what I had drunk let alone Coltan.

Later in the evening Neil and John left Coltan the table and I sitting by the one of the windows, drinks on the table in front of us.

“Here”, Coltan said whipping his hat from his head and plonking it on mine, “Try this for size”

I smiled. It fit and catching a look from some reflective glass, I laughed. I looked a right idiot. A rocker in a leather jacket with a hippish hat on was not exactly fashion of the moment. Least not for the sober.

He laughed with me and I took the hat off before handing it back to him.

“Suited you”, he grinned in that way you know someone is messing about rather than being honest.

The rest of our conversation I do not recall but I do remember he was a funny guy with a good sense of humor.

The night ended on the car park with Coltan lighting a reefa and it being passed along between us. I hesitated when it came to me but saw it as no worse than smoking so took a drag.

The night was over and I never saw John and Coltan again. However, it was not the last time I would meet someone who had a reputation for violence with alcohol.