For the last few weeks I've been taking a bit of a different route to work. This alternate route has included getting off the bus in my old neighborhood in Dinkytown. Every day I have to walk past this shiny, new, sprawling apartment building that replaced what had been relatively shitty houses.
It makes me sad to see it, because I had a lot of fun in one of those now-gone houses. It was a party house called The Zoo. And it was just a block from my apartment. It's where I did my very first tequila shot with my friend Bob. It seems kind of weird that for all the underage drinking I did, it wasn't until I was nearly 21 (or possibly already 21) that I did my first tequila shot. The Zoo was one of a handful of party houses I frequented in college. I can no longer remember the house on Ontario ... or was it Huron? None of these houses could hold a candle to the house at 5th and U, though. I had a long history with that house before the aforementioned Bob moved in and it became the Rugby House.
When I get off the bus and walk to the office, I can still kind of see my very first apartment. For whatever reason today (maybe it's the hangover?) I thought about the very first night College Roommate and I spent there. We had a boombox, a frying pan that served as a candle holder, dorm-issued blankets and pillows (we didn't have sleeping bags) and of course, booze. That night, I ended up christening her bedroom. I didn't want to! It just happened. And I would have christened my own bedroom, but she and one of our friends had passed out in there. So, really, she had no standing to be very mad.
Earlier that day, I was at breakfast with my friend Lal. In the dining hall at the same time was this football player who had been eyeing me all year. He would stare at me so intently every time I saw him. It was kind of unnerving. I would look back at him with what I thought was an equally intense gaze. However, Lal saw this go down that morning and asked, "Why are you glaring at him?" Okay, so my intense gaze turned out to be a glare. I had no idea! I decided that when I went past him the next time, I'd smile at him. And I did. Apparently, that's why I ended up having sex with him later that night in my roommate's bedroom. Where there was no bed, nor furniture of any kind. Or even curtains or blinds on the window. AWESOME.
I didn't confess the fact to First Roomie for a couple of months. She'd been convinced it happened anyway and wasn't mad.
My walk also takes me through the park that was kind of kitty-corner from our apartment. First roomie and I used to sunbathe there from time to time. Usually on this hill in the corner. One day when we were there, either sleeping or listening to music via headphones and kind of in our own little world, I see a park police car cruise by. Then, all of a sudden, the park police have pulled up to where we are laying. Awkward small talk ensued. Park po-po leave. First Roomie and I have "What the fuck?" conversation for the rest of the time we're there.
Kind of across the street from the park, and around the corner from my old apartment is The Social Worker's old apartment. That's right! The Social Worker and I were neighbors in college. I used to follow her to campus and then ended up following her into the same classroom. Turned out we were both journalism students. My answer of "I was the Waseca County Pork Ambassador," to the ice breaker question of "Tell us something different about yourself," was what sealed the deal in her and another friend's decision that they needed to meet me. I'm really glad I chose that answer.
Sorry for the completely indulgent entry. But really, they're all completely indulgent, so there you go.