A buddy and me were the first in our circle to get an apartment after college, so we became the meeting place. It wasn’t a party house, we drank beer, and smoked weed, but it was calm and quiet, and the old folks below us never complained. They were frequent visitors, as a matter of fact.
People would start showing up around 8. My buddy and I managed different record stores, and we were into all sorts of music, and we had ALL the latest promo recordings, so usually we had a ball game on the TV with no sound (for our buddy Mark, who loved sports), while we listened to music, smoked, and talked. There were usually a dozen people, guys and girls, all ages, right up to old folks downstairs, sometimes. He’d had a stroke, and he could understand everything, but couldn’t converse, beyond random curse words, which he would deliver with either exasperation or disbelief, which we all thought was hilarious, and so did he and his wife.
At 11:30, we’d watch Johnny Carson’s monologue on the TV, and at midnight wed switch it over to two episodes of Twilight Zone. After that, everybody went home.
That was our ritual about 3-4 nights a week for a couple of years, until everybody started to scatter as they found jobs in different places. We’d go out now and then, but only because we weren’t going to meet any new girls hanging around our apartment. Going out often meant moving the party to someone else’s place for the night.
We couldn’t afford to go out to party much, but we always had a better time at home with our friends, especially since there were no threats of judgemental parents, RAs, etc. Our first real taste of true adult freedom was sweet enough to keep us happy.
A buddy and me were the first in our circle to get an apartment after college, so we became the meeting place. It wasn’t a party house, we drank beer, and smoked weed, but it was calm and quiet, and the old folks below us never complained. They were frequent visitors, as a matter of fact.
People would start showing up around 8. My buddy and I managed different record stores, and we were into all sorts of music, and we had ALL the latest promo recordings, so usually we had a ball game on the TV with no sound (for our buddy Mark, who loved sports), while we listened to music, smoked, and talked. There were usually a dozen people, guys and girls, all ages, right up to old folks downstairs, sometimes. He’d had a stroke, and he could understand everything, but couldn’t converse, beyond random curse words, which he would deliver with either exasperation or disbelief, which we all thought was hilarious, and so did he and his wife.
At 11:30, we’d watch Johnny Carson’s monologue on the TV, and at midnight wed switch it over to two episodes of Twilight Zone. After that, everybody went home.
That was our ritual about 3-4 nights a week for a couple of years, until everybody started to scatter as they found jobs in different places. We’d go out now and then, but only because we weren’t going to meet any new girls hanging around our apartment. Going out often meant moving the party to someone else’s place for the night.
We couldn’t afford to go out to party much, but we always had a better time at home with our friends, especially since there were no threats of judgemental parents, RAs, etc. Our first real taste of true adult freedom was sweet enough to keep us happy.
plot twist: the “old” folks downstairs were 35.