What’s my age again?

It was a time of reckless abandon with life going at a minute-to-minute pace, and even then it was still all about the moment.  The main characters in this episode were myself and my boys, Peter and Brandon, living life to the last drop/puff/drip/dose.  Looking back several years after the fact I have an inkling inside that I didn’t appreciate those times enough.  You really don’t know how much fun it was until those times are no longer available due to the progression of time, person, and station in life.  “The Boys” wasn’t just an expression of my closest friends, it was a connection, a synchronization of people who had traveled disparate paths to reach a similar plane of consciousness. 

While doing some spring cleaning I came across an old CD that encapsulated all the emotion, the angst, the tomfoolery, and the disconnect from the real world I enjoyed during one of the most significant phases of my life.  Everyone says being 21 is the greatest year of your life, and damn it I tried my best to ensure it was.  The Mark, Tom, and Travis Show albums brings me back to the 2001: Brandon’s S10 on airbags, Peter’s rice rocket GSR, checkered shirts and Dickies, blonde highlights with a fade, bars during the week and raves on the weekend, E-parties with chicks whenever and wherever, big bongs and baby bongs even though we only picked up 8ths, Puma shoes and jackets, cruising the Strip, hanging out at the Block, trying to get more numbers than the other guy, disappearing at Spundae, coffee shop sluts, worrying if B is going to get us in a fight, Main St. Huntington Beach without going in the water, finding as many free clubs as possible, what the hell is the name of that club @ Grand Ave circa 2001 that was free for 21+?, Peter’s standards that were lower than a slammed Civic, B always having something to say and Peter having something to counter, acid trips in the room for hours on end, patio man-to-man’s, smoking then BBQ’ing then smoking some more, the back of the house room, popping circles in the jungle room, e-hoeing in the dark, every party was the last party, hanging out at colleges we didn’t attend, Tony Hawk Pro Skater 1, impromptu road trips to the Bay Area, Vegas onE, driving to SD to go to ONE bar, internet superstars, hanging out @ the TGIF’s in Mission Viejo, taking a premeditated risk everytime I got into my rice rocket old school integra, gooOOoOOOoOD acid, Boo Paa Loo Soldierz dreadlock rasta…

If there was a mantra we lived by it was, “oh hells, might as well” and we incorporated it into most every facet of our lives.  It worked so well back then.  Nowadays, not so much.  We put off growing up as long as we could but the inevitable happened and with came the redefinition of almost everything we used to hold dear.

For a group of guys who attempted to live life a million miles a minute, we sure let time and distance get the best of us.  There’s a part on the CD where Tom is talking to the crowd and he says something to the effect that he, Mark, and Travis are the best of friends.  The band is now defunct as most good things come to an end.  Sadly,  Brandon has relocated to Texas where he’s doing well for himself, and I wish Peter hadn’t fallen off the face of the earth just so I could feel assured that he’s okay too.  After all these years I still wish we could get together for a drink and reminisce about old times over a Laker game.  One day.  Maybe.