Nostalgia Time
Cruising around the blogosphere its interesting that so many people have such strong memories attached to Labor Day. A little, tiny insignificant holiday to break up the monotony between 4th of July and Thanksgiving. Well I’ve got a memory attached to the day too, so here you go…
6 years and 2 weeks ago I moved to Flagstaff, Arizona into my very first apartment at college. The Pines. I lived in a 2 bedroom, 2 bath with 3 other girls. My roommate Jill and I had a bunk bed w/ a pullout futon on the bottom that we thought was a brilliant idea. Many Kahlua mudslides in I managed to build myself INTO the bunk bed, but that’s a different story…
The day my girls and I got up to Flag to move in, we pulled in to the parking lot at the same time as a shiny red Mustang. We all watched as two gorgeous, muscled guys straight from the gym stepped out, and my mom in all her infinite wisdom said, “I think you’re going to have a good time here.” Little did we know…
Just two weeks later we’d already settled in and had made friends with our maintenance guy and had pumped him for information on the cute boys in the apartment around the corner from ours. On Labor Day weekend, we had my girlfriends up for the weekend for a visit. We all decided that we should have ourselves a party to celebrate our new-ound freedom, so we called up all the cute boys we knew (and a few token girls) and invited everyone over for that night.
That afternoon we girls got back to the apartment complex after stocking up with party supplies and sitting in the parking lot surrounded by instrument cases was Cute Guy #1. Spurred on by a dare from my giggling girlfriends, I bravely walked straight up to him and asked, “Are you Ryan, Ryan, Jeff or Craig?” Turns out that this Ryan was pretty shy, but I invited him to the party that night anyway.
About 6 hours later the party was in full swing. Then the cops showed up (thank you heinous downstairs neighbors!). As I was one of the only 21 year-olds at the party, it fell to me to assure them that the co-ed drunken Twister would end. (I should note here that the under 21’s were all hiding in showers and the legal people were doing body shots in the kitchen just within my view. Thanks for the support guys!) As I was talking to our friendly Men in Blue, I saw coming around the corner Ryan and his roommate holding illegal underaged beer. They took one look at my guests at the door and turned right around and went home.
Luckily for me, Ryan and Jeff came back later when the coast was clear, and even luckier was that when Ryan went through my CD collection he found some things that his discerning taste approved of. Specifically: Miles and Coltrane.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
