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ecotone99 · 4 years

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[OT] Old school party

playlist

Where does this story belong? Instagram (not on that). Twitter (seems too long, and I don't tweet). Blogger (who blogs these days?). Snapchat? (please, i'm not 13). Whatsapp (I don't even know what that is). Facebook? (no good pictures and too long)... a story i wrote 25 years ago, and updated in 2007. Does this short story stand the test of time? I'll let you decide. But I did snap the playlist that was saved from the Saturday morning cleanup... and somehow I saved it for the last 30 years in my nostalgia bin. good times. "I wish there was a way to know you're in the 'good old days' before you've actually left them" - Andy Bernard. Excuse any typos. I don't feel like correcting any of them at this late moment.

308 stanton last updated: 20-jul-07

so it was decided. we would indeed throw a party at our house. we’d kicked the idea around for months prior, but nobody championed the idea, so it never came together. this time, we still didn’t have a champion for the effort, but we all kind of came to a zen-like calmness about the decision to go thru w/ it. while waiting in some incredibly long beer lines (really, more like beer circles, with the keg at the center of the concentric circles of folks waving their plastic beer cups) at the Green House, only 5 short blocks away from our house, we finally told each other enough times that we were sick of waiting in other people’s houses, while the beer-gods up front w/ the taps decide who drinks right away (young, good looking women who are friendly, and whoever lives there), and who waits (all males who aren’t actually living at the house or from the house guys’ hometowns).

there were a few party houses that had developed nicknames and that didn’t need directions or street names to go along w/ them. kind of like the ‘cher’, ‘prince’ and ‘madonna’s of the iowa state university campustown houses. we had the ‘gamma Gs’ (a fake frat / party house on lincoln ave). we had the green house (a mint green party house on knapp). we had the ‘pink house’. and we had ‘230 campus’ (a collection of apartments w/ loose keg policies, and plenty of opportunities for crashing parties). we had others, too, but they already have slipped away from my mind forever. the real question was: could we compete w/ the old established houses and get anyone to come to this new location? (‘old, established’ is relative, of course. in real years, their reputations were about 3 years old. but in ‘college time’, tho, it was like 2 generations, like 40-college-years. an eternity. legendary) what if we threw a party and nobody came? we had egos to protect. and our pocketbooks (stupid name... let’s just call em wallets) and we had so many unknowns that could ruin the event (a blizzard, a potentially mega-huge competing party, possible ‘barn dances’ the same night [but that’s another whole story there, the infamous isu ‘barn dances’. pay your $5, get on an old yellow school bus, get driven 15 miles out to the boonies to some guys barn, drink your guts in, puke your guts out, make the rounds and hit on all the women (who make up a HUGE 15% of the party, jump on a bus that leaves every 15 minutes back to campus, stagger home… yack in the bushes a few times if need be. well, i guess that doesn’t require a whole new story, just thick brackets] ).

so, we picked a friday 2 weeks out. it was the dead of winter, early on in the new semester, w/ only a cyclone basketball game as the only known conflict. 308 stanton avenue, ames, ia, 50012 had keggers before, but outside ones, in the summer, where the house can be locked down. this would need to be an entirely inside party (feb in iowa). and this would be a ‘blow-out’ party. or at least we planned for that. not just one (or maybe 2) kegs and an invite list of close friends and neighbors (no lockdown needed. no duct taping cupboards, couches in front of bedroom doors, turnaround the tv, hide the remotes and CDs, tape the fridge shut, etc. this would be a take no prisoners (unless they pony up the $3) kind. totally open to whoever moseyed by. we had connections to a ‘band’ (i knew a band member from honors program, who lived in the ‘pink house’ (cory S). roach (my roommate), knew another band member from same band from his hometown. yup, need quotes around that ‘band’ word. 4 guys who all had instruments. and different instruments! that’s all you need to be called a band. erik, corey, zit, and ?. they agreed to play for our party. that was a good thing. i either forget their band name, or they didn’t have one (yet). nirvana or some such. i’m sure they didn’t amount to anything. but who knows? this was unique enough that strangers would be tempted to go to a house party w/ an actual live band playing. at least we hoped. we reached a point of no return when we reserved the kegs on the monday before. how many to buy? and how many to put on reserve? we settled on getting 3 up front, and 3 on reserve. had to put down some ‘serious’ money for them, and for the tap deposit, and the keg deposit. we had to scrape the money together, tapping out atm cards and bringing back cans/bottles for nickel apiece, etc (pry about $150 which of course now doesn’t seem as much as back then, when we were all about 2-4 years into paying out w/out ever receiving anything back yet).

so, we all worked our contacts all week. we stopped by our old dorm floors to tell everyone to come, and have them announce it at their weekly floor meetings. we even (or at least i did, can’t speak for my roommates) put up signs in the bathrooms and hallway and den on the old floor, to make sure the message got out. told all my classmates in every class (even the ones who normally don’t party hop, which was most of them. chemical engineers just don’t party. even at college. at least most of em). on the engineers side of campus (the ugly, male-dominated side. all the good looking co-eds in education stayed on the opposite side of campus, safely away from us), after 3 years, its amazing how many people you recognize by just walking around between buildings, even at a huge school of 25,000. we were like jehovas witnesses or magazine sellers, we would tell everybody we knew (either by their names, or maybe just their faces) about friday’s party. by the end of the week (thursday), most people i told about the party would say, “i know, i know, i heard about it like 20 times now”. that was a good sign. but i took that to mean that my roommates and me had just told them about it 5 times each.

we over prepared for it, that’s for sure. i blew off friday afternoon classes (but i made it to my 8:00 AM p-chem) we cleaned the house up. big time. in the old forgotten corners, we found and cleaned out magazines and unopened mail that were 10 years old. we put away everything valuable or breakable. we duct taped our kitchen cabinets shut, which included our very valuable raman noodles and assorted tupperware for storing leftover pizza, as well as glass-glasses. we duct-taped the fridge. we decided to barricade the bedroom doors w/ couches. (our house had one big, open room, full of old couches, and bedrooms shooting off of it, so it wasn’t difficult to do it. of course, we kept finding reasons to need to go into the bedrooms, so we constantly kept ‘sealing’ and ‘unsealing’ all the bedroom doors all afternoon. we totally cleaned out the bathroom of everything but one lil roll of toilet paper. moved all CDs, tvs, remotes, anything we could move, we moved, to bedrooms. we picked up the 3 kegs, putting 2 in the basement, and tapped one for upstairs. that was just for convenience and until folks (hopefully) started showing up. then we’d move that to the basement, too. the basement was the darkest, stinkiest, mustiest, mildewy-est, centipede over-ran hole in the ground (literally) i’ve ever seen. perfect for the dispensing of beer. we actually had someone voluntarily live down there. doug, who was only charged $50/month (we all paid $112) for some unknown reason, agreed to those living conditions. he laid down industrial strength plastic over the cracked, crumbling, dirty cement / cement dirt, put in some clothes lines for hanging all the clothes he owned, and put a mattress directly on the floor. he would always be bringing up to show us the biggest, most disgusting bugs/millipedes/centipedes/roaches that he found in his sheets. and he always smelled ‘musty’ when he first put on a new shirt and came up from down the dungeon. but the smell eventually wore off, or at least we got used to it. how HE got used to it is beyond me.

by 4:00, we were ‘ready’. the house looked so different.. so… clean. it put us in a goofy mood. a nervous mood. we had put the tv away, so the only thing we could do is listen to the stereo, play some darts, and wait. and drink. and wait. we were sitting on 3 full, cold kegs, slowly warming up. but we all just kinda sipped. it was gonna be a long night. even roach sipped. didn’t think that was possible for him to do. gotta pace ourselves. the band showed up, w/ their stuff. that was cool. it was one of their first ‘official’ gigs. they were playing for free, which was worked out beforehand. they were just glad to get top-(and only)-billing. and they told all of THEIR friends and ‘groupies’ to come, too, i assumed, or at least hoped. they found the most sturdy part of our floor to set up (which was a challenge. the floor was mushy, uneven, and spongy to the step almost everywhere. their amps and speakers were damn heavy, and they didn’t care about damaging our floor, they just didn’t want their expensive (rented?) things getting hurt as they fell thru the floor and landing on doug’s bed, or at least tipping over.

earlier in the week, we had recruited what we called (and in our defense, what everyone else in our world at ISU called), the ‘beer wench’. pry the most important person at the party. the pivot person. the go-to woman. except for any cops that may show up. the beer wench doled out the glasses, acted as a ‘bouncer’ to keep out high-school lookin kids, made sure nobody brought in their own glasses, but most importantly, collected the money. 3 for guys, 2 bucks for women. NO EXCEPTIONS. we knew if we had tried to collect the money ourselves, a few things would happen. we’d lose interest, we wouldn’t get beer in a timely manner ourselves, we’d get sweet-talked by our girl – friends (not just girlfriends, but … oh, i’m sure you understand) to not have to pay, and we wouldn’t be able to ‘mingle’. i can’t believe i forgot her name already… it’s only been 10 short years. cherry? lampy? i’ll come back to the name.. i’m sure i’ll wake up tonite at 3:00 AM shouting “April! April!” good thing the wife is in tampa. the B.W. was tough as nails, actually enjoyed being a *itch. and loved being in charge. getting her to help was the key, in hindsight, to a good party.

i remember the 5 of us (burk, woody, roach, doug, and me (aka homie – a name carried over from the dorm floor days of tone loc, when everybody was “me and my homies”) {scrappy and rebar minus doug would be the next generation to live there w/ us, but weren’t quite yet} standing in our empty house, nervously asking each other if we thought anyone will show up. we had no idea. oh, sure, we hoped, and we estimated, but what if only 17 folks showed up. hope they’re thirsty. and rich. we were a jangle of nerves, even tho we all tried hiding it.

luckily, at around 6, some folks started trickling in. some old dorm friends, duke and shu, came waaaay too early. i was the one who named duke, duke, back in the dorm days, cuz his name was john wayne H. that name stuck; John Wayne, The Duke. nobody knew him as john, and even as i write this, john sounds goofy… he was duke. wonder if that name stuck to him after college? pry not. folks like fuzzy from the roommates’ hometowns, and girlfriends, and some more stragglers started arriving, who we told to come early to drink before it got too crowded. and then, at about 7:30, the floodgates opened! this wasn’t new york city, where you went out at a stylish 11:00. here, you ate, then put on and up your party hair (for the flock of seagulls-type women), got together and started the night ASAP. in fact, you pry started right after classes on friday (F.A.C. Friday After Class drink specials. did any other campus have FAC bar parties?) like dime-a-tap-beer specials, the kind the city cops were always complaining about.

a crush of people started showing up, flowing in like a river. we moved the 3rd keg to the basement. the money started flowing in, and the beer flowing out. the volume picked up. we had achieved CPM. (critical party mass). the only thing that could extinguish CPM was running out of beer, or a visit from one of ames’ finest. plenty of beer was available, and the police stayed away all night. it was a sweet feeling being the giver of one of these, finally. barging to the front of the beer line (circle), and commandeering the tap. being able to fill up the young, nubile women’s glasses ahead of the obnoxious guys who i didn’t know. it was taken for granted that one must yield the power of the tapper to the owner of the house or his designated delegate upon request. all that power in one guys thumb. it was intoxicating. (or maybe it was just the beer. ok, it was definitely just the beer). the Beast. Milwaukee’s Best. cheapest stuff available. the basement, for the first time ever, actually was getting hot in the dead of winter. usually, our house stayed at about 65 degrees during day, and pry 50 or 55 at night (some mornings, and i don’t think i’m remembering this wrong, i could actually see my breath <insert bad breath jokes here>) doug had barricaded his ‘room’ off w/ his mattress and rope. it was still holding.

the band wanted to start warming up. the public enemy on the stereo was killed. it wasn’t like the opening of a U2 concert, let me tell ya. it just kind of ramped up… slowly.. so slowly.. guitarist tuning and playing some licks that were maybe recognizable. mic checks. random drumming. then, no friendly banter from the lead singer erik, welcoming us, or saying it was great to be at 308 stanton, ames. just the start of their first song of their first set of their first gig ever. and maybe it was just the beer (ok, most likely), but they sounded okay. i recognized their songs. they had the place rockin. people were actually dancing to them, and everyone was facing them. it was cool. i’m sure the band was into it, jammed into our corner, the throng pressing in on them.

during their first break, roach convinced me to help him w/ a ‘beer-ee-oaky’ song. put loud public enemy back on the stereo, and we would help chuck D belt out the verses using the band’s sound system. trust me, it sounds better when i type it than it sounded. i think we were unceremoniously escorted away from the mics by erik, to much applause.

i took a break to go across the street to 307 stanton. (aside: while co-op-ing (interning) at quantum chemical in lil old clinton/camanche, iowa, i looked for some off-campus housing for my return to State, i hooked up w/ roach, et. al who had found the house available at 308 stanton ave. unbeknownst to me, the future wife to be, B, had also been house hunting w/ some of her grrrrls. when she told me she found a house at 307 stanton, i thought she was pulling my leg (or pulling something). but nope. either she did some great detective work to find out where i was gonna live, and made sure she was close enough to be able to harass me, or it was serendipity. of the 25,000 student living quarters in ames, she picked the one 100 ft away. anyway, that led to “us” directly. 307 vs. 308. goofy how life works out. had she picked 230 campus ave who knows? i may be w/ one of becky’s roommates (hopefully not the goth i hate men patchouli wearin’ black dressin’ greasy hair unwashin’ coppin’ attitude liberal, pasty, pierced scary one w/ the 2 cats). anyway, becky (nee rebecca) was planning on being fashionably late to our party, and she was putting the finishing touches on her ‘party hair’ / peacock / bend over, hair spray your bangs, stand up. repeat, along w/ her friends/roommates maria and kelly. while at her house, at the upstairs windows, it was the perfect vantage point to take it all in over at 308. folks streaming up the sidewalks in waves, nay, armadas, from all directions, some carrying glasses (hope the BW confiscated em) and every time our front door opened, a huge plume of steam/smoke just poured out into the february night. really billowed out, like there was a fire inside. most of it was just hot, sweaty, humid air hitting the feb. cold, cuz there wasn’t many smokers there. it was somethin. wasn’t many cars out front, just a smattering (everyone lived walking distance to everything. one block off main campus street, in between everything, was 308). i loved that scene. was anxious to get back in the middle of it.

the peacock finally ready. getting back to the party, fighting our way thru the folks milling or waiting or getting cooled off or yacking or relieving or whatever, katie (kate! katie! the bw’s name! too lazy to correct it up there in the story, tho) was at the door, doing the her job better than anyone in the business. in fact, when i came back in, she was in distress. she looked relieved to see me. she immediately moved a couch and pulled me into the barricaded room (witte’s room) right by the door. i wondered why. here’s why: she then started pulling money out from every pocket and fold and sock and who knows where else. it was unbelievable. mostly crumpled ones, but a few fives and tens. damn! and she said that roach and burk had already cleaned her out a few times already. wow, a bed full of money... several inches high. i rolled it all up like the big shots do in the casino movies. ended up as a thick can-sized wad. and stashed it in witte’s backpack. never to be seen again. (nah, we all pooled all the money together in the ‘morning after’). thanked kate for her services, but told her it was only 10:00 and people still want glasses. went to the basement to freshen up the glass. some folks were relieving themselves in the way back corner. i started yelling at them, until i realized doug was back there, too, and it’s his room, so who was i to stop em? “hey! doug SLEEPS there! oh, hi, doug... nevermind. carry on”

near the beer, along w/ the countless plastic cups being held up, this one guy was actually holding up a sandwich tupperware, jockeying for position towards the tap. he had been drinking out of THAT. after working my way over to him, and trying to make him feel as stupid as he looked, i kindly suggested that he go buy a cup from kate and put back our favorite tuna sandwich tupperware. he was trying to tell me that that’s what they gave him at the door. i don’t think so. however, everybody’s attention quickly turned to the old 2 X 8 wood planks without railings that made up our stairs. roach was bounding down them, backwards, loudly, w/ a full keg tumbling right behind him. he was trying to hoist it down gently, but lost his footing. the keg landed on his left leg at the bottom of the steps, snapping his bone right at the upper ankle. ouch. first, he thought he’d drink thru the pain, and sat upstairs having folks beer him, sitting like a mafia don w/ his captains. finally, the wuss went to the hospital, got it set and casted, and actually made it back before the party was over. now THAT’s dedication. true anecdote.... actually, everything here is true... at least through the beer fogs of time. was too passé to have anyone sign the cast, but just put his casted leg up on a table, and folks kept his glass full.

upstairs, the band was working through their set list for the second (third?) time, but nobody cared. the game was to try to figure out the song first. sometimes, it took a few seconds (or minutes). burk then brought out his snake, Monty, the python. a big ball python about 7 feet long. coiled it around his neck, chomping on a big stogy ala schwartenagger. big guy was burke. played football as a freshman, i think. gave it up (or it gave him up) chicks dug the snake. and he passed it around to em. the snake loved squeezing necks. it was a huge, heavy thing, but always very sedate and nice. the heat inside the house was intense. crammed shoulder to shoulder absolutely everywhere. must’ve been 300 folks there. more kegs needed. someone already had picked up the 3 reserves, but we needed more. i enlisted duke and shu, along w/ becky (‘rebecca’ wouldn’t be born for another 5 yrs). <sermon time. yes, i realized i shouldn’t’ve been driving, but of the bunch, i was in the best condition. sorry as i was>. also, luckily, it wasn’t too far away. about a mile on slow city roads, w/ stop signs or lights every block. so, w/ 2 kegs in the trunk, and a few more in back seat, and w/ them sitting on em, and the back end almost riding on the tires, it was a precarious voyage back. had to break off some of the benjamins (oh, wait... i mean jeffersons and lincolns in cold cash, homie!) but we received a hero’s welcome back at 308. well, ‘we’ didn’t, i guess, but the beer did. hundreds of dry coeds and guys, having only drunk 1.50 worth, or 0.0 worth, or 5.0 worth, but still! a dry house! oh, the horrors. we had borrowed a second tap from someone earlier in the night, so the beer was disappearing quick. almost too quick.

a gaggle of chemE’s even showed up, and were off in a corner, in a tight group, looking shell-shocked, sipping their beers. maybe this shouldn’t have been the first party to invite them to, because everything was to the extreme. not for the timid. we (roommates/me) worked the crowd w/ pitchers of beer, whenever we got the chance or felt altruistic. i always started in that chemE corner w/ a pitcher and worked out from there, so they wouldn’t have to fight their way downstairs into the most aggressive beer circle i’d ever seen. tempers usually didn’t flare up, tho, even tho folks got spilled on, pushed, crushed, stepped on, because it was just par for the course. expected. and most everyone knew everyone else, or at least knew somebody who knew somebody else. no beer-rage here.

finally, the band wrapped things up (no encores, thankfully). they did an impressive job, and certainly didn’t embarrass themselves or our fine house’s reputation. back to the stereo, back to public enemy and other old school hiphop (and for roach: milli vanilli, who still liked that damnable trashy cd even after they were discredited as pop-induced lip synchers). and his milli vanilli posters and milli vanilli do-rags and ripped t-shirts and autographed 8x10 glossies? oh, c’mon! well, not really. he was more into new kids on the block. some young lil freshman-like girls thought nothing could be better than some garth brooks and some ac/dc, and that new rap *hit had to go. they kept trying to break into roach’s room to change the music. bad idea. they were escorted out. really annoying. “no! we want garth! not this rap sh**!”

after cleaning out katie (the BW) one more time, i made an executive decision. (actually, i think i ran it by whoever roommates i could find, just to make sure they agreed) i gave the band some playing money. 20 bucks apiece. of course, they weren’t insulted by the paltry sum. rather, they were thrilled at the unexpected windfall, which looked bigger than it actually was, via the delivery method of handing them crumpled, uneven, mismatched fists of cash. this was their first paying gig. they stuck around to see if any ‘groupies’ appeared, but nope, just the same friends they always party with. the band was always high on my pitcher refill list, too, right behind the circle of cowering chemEs.

people started filing out after 11-12ish. not a mad rush, but the direction was certainly out, not in. some pizzas should have been ordered w/ part of the windfall, but nobody got around to it. katie gave up the glasses job. we insisted that she take 20, or 40, or whatever a handful of wet, badly folded, mismatched bills was worth, because w/out her diligence, we would have not cleared half of what we did.

i didn’t have the energy or incentive to un-barricade my room, and chose instead the quiet, warm, dry, smoke-free puke-free, noise-free environs of 307 to crash for the night. i guess the fact that becky-the-big-party-haired-woman was there may have had something to do w/ that decision, too, tho, in retrospect, but actually not too much. even if sister ezekiel (a short, warted, mean nun in full nun-wearables) from my from 2nd grade teacher/nun had been in 307 instead of becky, i STILL would have went there.

the next morning was a bit surreal. walking back over to 308 mid-morning, still in a groggy/drunk mode, i couldn’t help but notice a few things. someone had written a big “NO BEER” with lipstick, on our house siding, right by the front door. kind of like a scarlet letter, scaring away would-be late partiers who heard about a great party too late. or maybe someone from inside kept getting woken up by folks wanting to ‘party’, and thought that sign would keep them from knocking. the front and side yard (and i’ll try not to be too graphic here) was a mixture of melted snow, and plenty of once-ran-through beer remains, as well as ample evidence of mass-indigestion. the bottoms of our house and nearby cars had all the salt and mud washed off them, many times over, in nice little ‘golden arches’. mcdonalds would be proud.

that was just a inkling of what the inside of the house had in store. in fact, it was worse than outside. the green matted shag carpet was barely visible under the broken plastic cups, cigarette and cigar butts, ripped up posters, overturned couches and cushions, some random bottles folks had brought in to tie (tide?) them over until the keg glasses could be filled, some wet rugs and pillows, muddied papers / newspapers and whatever else we didn’t lock up. the rug (that was visible) was soaked w/ melted snow, mud and spilled beer. witte was sleeping on a chair – apparently, he didn’t feel up to breaking thru his bedroom-barricade, either. as he was still waking up, tho, he was worried, and was mumbling about monty. the last thing he knew or remembered from last night, he had the snake, monty. and now, he no longer had the snake, and the snake wasn’t in its cage, and nobody has seen it after witte. so, ever so gently, we started digging for Monty. the snake needed to be found. somewhere. thankfully, he finally turned up in a couch, underneath the cushions, and no worse for wear (at least that we could see). we unwound him from the “C” wire cushion bottoms and returned him to his safe, warm glass cage. he needed to see a snake-therapist for months after this episode.

someone had tried running through a wall by the front door. they made it about half way through. if only i had the tools and know-how of sheetrocking then that i have now, i coulda done magic on that wall. however, a big, free poster for Bud (the bud girls.. remember them, in their ‘bud’ bathing suits written across 3 buxom babes and their underlying bud towel?) hid the hole just at good, and was a lot quicker, too. also, we had no running water. also, someone smashed the natural gas meters in the basement (why, we still wonder). also, the toilet was clogged and broken. the sink was clogged. the hot water heater wouldn’t re-light (someone must have saw it as a convenient ‘watering hole’ and of course every self-respecting guy needs to have a target in mind or have a watering post to help the flow). the main table we used for whatever (newspapers, phone messages, backpacks, groceries) was missing a leg.

but, oh, well, on the positive note, the party was a smashing success. literally. everyone slowly got up, and started putting the house back together. no radio. no tv. no stereo. no loud noises, period. the basement beer mud was thick, and smelly? damn! we all collected the money’s we had squirreled away (pockets, backpacks, hiding spots) and put it into a big pile. a very impressive pile. a foot tall, few feet across. wow. settled up the costs for the extra kegs, and tried to recount how much was given away, and to whom. i forget how much we each cleared, but it was a helleva lot more than we ever thought it would be. about 50 future keggor fees, i think. but we didn’t do it for the money. we did it just for the sake of doing it. with much of the proceeds, we set up a very healthy toilet paper / paper towel endowment fund for the house.. and we were the foundation chairs for this endowment. usually, we just traded in cans/bottles at a nickel a pop when we were way past desperate in the toilet paper arena. but now, we were now rich w/ paper! a whole semesters worth of no-worry bathroom visits.

roach’s leg healed no problem. (altho his car antennae got bent off, too, pry by someone steadying themselves against his car. shoulda got a portapotty out front). the plumber was called. gas company was called. the old pipes were used so much that rust had been shaken free and clogged it all up (or maybe all that bass from the band loosened it. the gas company guy (a young guy not too far out of college himself, or at least college-aged) took pity on us and installed all new natural gas meters for free. becky actually helped clean up, too. i remember that because she pulled the band’s song list out from the garbage and told me i should keep it. it was taped to the floor by the band so they would know the order of the songs, and could segue easier. it was written using a red marks-a-lot smeary, wet, torn, burned, but still barely readable. in fact, i think i’ll dig thru old college notes and memorabilia box under the ol’ steps and try to find that bad boy. too bad that band didn’t make it to the big time, i could auction off that piece of paper on e-bay for a fortune.

i had an interview w/ koch in wichita for that next monday, and had to leave sunday morning for the airport. i still wasn’t quite ‘regular’ and fully over the carnage from friday, but apparently i did okay anyway. i got the koch internship which led me to a full time koch job which then led me to 3m. so i credit that party a decade ago w/ putting me on the road to professional success. i highly recommend a similar career path for every collegiate. but just don’t agree to sleep in any basements, no matter how reasonable the rent. the top-dwellers paid $112 each. doug paid $50 in the basement cave. 4 bedroom + basement. 3 blocks from campus, 1 block from campus-town. house completely trashed when moved in. no security deposit needed. no lease terms. perfect house. we were last ones to live there. it was condemned and tore down the summer after we graduated. rebuilt an apartment complex on our old home. progress? i think not.

we had other parties after that first big blowout, but none were as big, crazy, fun, crowded, or as memorable as that first one was. we realized smaller parties w/ mostly people we all knew had lots fewer headaches than the free-for-all trash-the-house kind. Monty the python finally succumbed to the cold and unfriendly climate of a badly insulated house in the middle of iowa winters, and even though he had a heating lamp and rock, he didn’t survive the year. found him dead and cold and coiled up one morning. we had a snake wake in his honor, tho, where he would come out of his permanent storage location of our freezer, all coiled up, frozen stiff, right between the totino party pizzas, and grace the party goers w/ his presence. that was another good party. the snake-wake party. but all the rest run together. monty slowly degraded in the freezer due to all the handling and shuffling, parts of his skin shedding and peeling off into the freezer. and finally burk had to find a more permanent home for him besides intermingled in the pile of pizzas. (4 totino party pizzas for $3 at value-save-more-hy-vee grocery or whatever it was called)

prologue: about a year after graduating, i stopped by the old house on stanton ave, to see if i knew anybody anymore, and to see what they had done to our place (palace!). everybody was gone, a ‘condemned’ notice on the front door. weeds growing over all the sidewalks and driveway. that made me feel bad. what a waste of a perfectly good party house. they tore it down shortly after, and put up a new building in its place. so it goes. progress. moral of this story? is none. lessons learned? are none. when you’re living thru the middle of a crazy time like college, you take a lot of it for granted, and don’t even realize that it’s out of the ordinary to invite 300 total strangers into your house, have 6 hours worth of fun w/ them, and then they leave, never to see you again. and then the next week, you do the same exact thing at someone else’s house/apartment w/out thinking anything of it. what a time. gone by. gone forever. condemned to the dustbin of memories.

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