I apologize (or not, you may be relieved) for taking a two-day break. Somara went to the grocery store on Monday and wanted to try out a new recipe for dinner. Therefore, I went straight home, ate and proceeded to fall into the expected carb coma. Tuesday night was the Crunch v. Stars game, sadly, they lost in the shootout. We gained a point but their first-place lead in the division continues to get whittled away by three teams clawing their way up.
Without anymore delay, I think I can bang out a couple days of this series. They came from rather uneventful, unpleasant and best forgotten years.
Back to the Six Days of Christmas III…
When I left for university, Christmas Break began a trend of sucking. Each year it progressed in awfulness. Not over gifts, food or the weather. Namely the prolonged boredom only to be broken up with bouts of arguing. I was usually ready to go back by the 27th since I had my fill of everybody by then. My mother succeeded in finding a way to ruin San Diego the year before so I thought it couldn’t get any worse. I should’ve been careful on what I wished for in 1989.
As December rolled around, all the signs pointed toward 1989 ending well or at worse, mediocre. Even mediocre was an improvement over 1986-88 combined. Here’s how 1989 was closing to lull me into a rope-a-dope that carried well into 1990:
- I had a pretty cool relationship with Carrie, my girlfriend since Summer.
- Stardate offered me another semester as an intern in 1990.
- I had an apartment so I didn’t have to go anywhere else to be a prisoner for several weeks until school started up. Namely, I had the opportunity to actually celebrate New Year’s Eve.
These seemed to point toward a great Christmas Break; I would be more in control of my “destiny” during those four weeks. One good omen was the rare snow day Marquette declared during Finals Week. Again, I didn’t have an exam the day it happened (1987 repeating itself) but I took advantage of it. I was already stranded at Carrie’s place and work was cancelled for her so it was a day of kicking back, playing Nintendo, watching TV and eating to pass the time until Milwaukee was dug out by evening.
A week later, Finals ended so I killed the hours with a part-time PE job I quit a couple days later due to its dull nature. This led to me vegging out at my apartment during the day listening to the stereo, lying around reading comic books and drinking hot tea. By evening Carrie would come over or vice versa. We’d have dinner, watch TV and call it a day.
When Christmas drew closer, Carrie headed to Antioch, IL to spend time with her mother and sister. I jumped through the hoops to catch the sequence of buses down to Bloomington to put in what I considered obligatory time with my grandparents. Brian was going to be there too. My parents remained in San Diego. There must’ve been some kind of standoff going on and both called it a draw. I don’t know why Brian didn’t get to go to California. He may have had other plans with his fraternity or college friends.
Before we set out to see our families, I planned for the worst. Much to Carrie’s irritation that evening, we transported my CD player and music collection to her apartment. It would’ve been easier if we had a car, taking Milwaukee’s buses were a hassle for this. I could’ve moved the rest of my decent equipment too but I didn’t want to press my luck with her, especially when she made the mule comment. Thus, I hid my tape deck and turntable in the pantry. The tuner and speakers remained in the living room because I didn’t have any hiding spaces remaining. Meanwhile, Carrie had four roommates and one of them was staying around for Christmas which gave me peace of mind with the most valuable part of my set up.
I have little recollection on how matters went at Grandma’s house. I’m confident Brian and I got along; some gifts were exchanged; there was a big meal. All of it got overshadowed by a phone call on Christmas Day from the apartment manager…my place got broken into. He and his incompetent co-manager were busy sweeping up the glass the burglars smashed to get the door open. This gave me the excuse to cut my visit short yet now I was filled with dread, anxiousness and anger.
It got worse from there.
The ever competent Milwaukee Police gave me grief over not calling in the burglary sooner. I explained it was discovered by Tweedle Dum and Dumber the management team next door. The cop said it should’ve been reported by them first, then I could amend the report to tell them what was taken. As if I was getting my stuff back, it was already converted to crack money hours ago.
What did they take? The tuner and speakers obviously, those were out in the open as I mentioned earlier. My worthless alarm-clock radio I had since 1981. All my laundry money, around ten bucks in quarters. Lastly, my laundry bag. What else were they going to transport my stuff with? Of all the items they stole, it was the one thing I was most irked over. They were going to take my TV but in their rush, they dropped it. Based upon where I found it in the kitchen, they plugged it in to test to make sure it didn’t work. No need carrying dead weight if the cops chased them.
The most damaging thing they did was destroy my sense of security at my apartment. Now every time I left, I felt paranoid about returning to a cleaned out pad. It makes one want to put on a cape and cowl a la Batman to get revenge. Controlled entry was a huge consideration for my next apartment when I moved the following Summer.
Carrie came to the rescue for which I’ve been eternally grateful about. She bought me a new alarm-clock radio. It didn’t cost much but the thought was what I appreciated.
Too bad I didn’t reciprocate very well and ruined New Year’s Eve for the both of us. Milwaukee was abuzz that cold, blustery night. The Eighties were ending and everyone wanted to celebrate the arrival of 1990. Carried dressed up, prepared to hit the clubs. I on the other hand, didn’t bother. (I have since improved my wardrobe and shed my aversion to looking stylish when needed.) I figured, if the joint had a peeve against blue jeans, they didn’t warrant my money. I was half right.
New Year’s Day got rung in at one of our apartments with a chaser of grief from Carrie. I deserved it. She got over it quickly but reminded me how much I owed her if there was a next year.
The break-in continued to leave me in a funk for days though. It carried over into reminding me about how I wasn’t going to graduate in the Spring. I had known since early 1989 I was short by 15 hours at my current pace. To remedy this, I stupidly decided to take 18 hours at registration. If I succeeded, I would only need 12 and I could knock out three or six over Summer, leaving me six to nine in the Fall, I’d graduate by Christmas 1990. I called Stardate to tell them I had to decline my renewal because school had to come first. This proved to be a wise move. Stardate was acquired by a rival promoter thanks to Gloria Estefan’s bus accident tanking the business.
I then had to step up my hours working for ORL to compensate for what I lost with Stardate. How the bad judgment continued there. I took three graveyard shifts at the new Humphrey Hall because there was a night differential. From 3 AM to 7 AM, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I worked the front desk. It wasn’t a complete loss. Several valuable lessons were learned from the experience before I quit in a huff around April.
- Never count on fellow college students to EVER be on time to relieve you at 7 AM.
- Never listen to a Smooth Jazz station during a graveyard station unless you’re hopped up on Meth or a caffeine IV.
- I cannot take a nap whenever there’s a deadline.
The Eighties ended on such a rotten note, especially when 1989 had been a rocking year.
The lousiness sadly continued for several more months but I remembered one class I took had a silver lining which then pulled 1990 out of the tailspin this rotten Break started. I’ll get to it later because it deserves its own entry and dovetails into my current career.
This reminiscing story seems like such a downer at first yet I don’t agree. 1989 became a cautionary tale and barometer to measure future Breaks against.