An Ode to The Apartment's Former Glory

There are many things missing from the frat-boy apartment on Union Street, where Kyle, Loren, Aaron and Justin live. A vacuum cleaner, to start. A dishwasher. Lysol. A female inhabitant to combat the overwhelming smell of gym. There are, in fact, very few things that the apartment doesn't need. I've always been hard-pressed to find one....that is, until I came over last Saturday, and found a strip pole in the living room.

I'd like to say this was some crazy idea of Aaron's or Justin's. Even Loren couldn't be ruled out--as Rob Stow noted, Loren's ideal woman would be a hot, genius grad student who strips her way through law school. Any of these guys could easily be responsible for something like this. Hell, even Baylee is still technically a roommate--and I have no doubt he could mysteriously whip a strip pole out from underneath his cot. But none of these fellows were to blame. Instead, it was... Kyle. Kyle brought the strip pole in. Any emotional damage that occurs to those who witness it being used (not all girls were built to be strippers), must be traced directly to him. He's an upstanding insurance agent by day, and mayor of Sin City by night. (Kyle inherited the strip pole from his sister when she moved, so in fairness he didn't go out and buy it or anything. But a strip pole in that apartment can only bring sadness.)

The rest of the story was inevitable. We returned Saturday from a fantastic night of back-to-school Kart at Lars' house to an apartment that had all the uneasy tensions of an impending party: hip-hop music drifiting out from Aaron's room, people we'd never seen before standing awkwardly in the living room, liquor bottles and shot glasses lined up by the sink. We immediately headed to bed, nevermind that it was only 10:30. Kyle can sleep through anything. I, however, tossed and turned as the following events transpired outside our door:
*Throngs of people gathered in the hallway and kitchen to scream, drink, and hit/drop things
*Justin and Dani had a huge fight in Justin's room
*Someone started puking violently in the bathroom, audibly missing the toilet. They must have locked themselves in, because at one point Aaron was beating on the door and screaming, "Open the fucking door NOW, goddamn it!"
*The unmistakable smell of marijuana started drifting up from the stairwell

By the time Spin yelled "Who left the gas burner running on the stove?" I was wide awake. Figuring all the sober people could easily burn to death in their beds, I got up and went on a food run, then hung out in the computer room (safe haven for the sane) until everyone went home. I thankfully missed the hour or so where Megan was walking around topless.

As this party was only the latest in a string of bad parties, I didn't think much about it. But when I remember all the good times we used to have there, it's hard to ignore how much the apartment now sucks. Baylee is leaving soon for U of M, and our little Loren is going off into the world to study at MSU. Kyle is working at Farm Bureau, I'm at Hagerty. Everyone is growing up, moving on. I have fond memories of the apartment, but it's not the same anymore. It's a different crowd--most of them drunk, unemployed, and/or homeless. And my priorities are starting to change. Getting wasted and puking down the stairwell doesn't look glamorous anymore, just sad.

So with that---farewell, old apartment! We'll miss you....just not as much as we once thought.