Gentlemen, J-Town Still Stands

Those who didn't go to school with me need not read this first part.



Recognize this house?

We had to go to a wedding in Burlington this weekend, so a quick detour to check out J-Town, our house during senior year of college, was a given. It got it's name J-town because of the simple fact that it's so J.

Allow me to give you a quick outdoor-guided tour of the place.

Right under the front porch window is where you would've seen a black couch a few years ago. I can't be sure, but I can only guess the couch was originally brought into town by Pat McCauly. Without exaggeration, it was literally the ugliest and most uncomfortable couch I've ever seen or sat on, and will likely remain champion forever, or until I die, whichever comes first. Pat, if you read this, I always wanted to know--what made you pull the trigger on that couch, and not whichever one was sitting next to it at the furniture store? Sure it served it's purpose, but I don't think I would've taken it if someone paid me what was on the price tag.
Right behind that window is where you would've seen the indoor couch that was broken and fallen into itself on it's left side. The window with the maroon shutters was Cory's (Babe #1's). That was his layer where he'd spend countless hours talking to babe #2 with the door shut. Right behind the roof shingles above the front porch you'd find my room: the uninsulated attic. Far too hot in the summer and early fall, far too cold in the winter. Juuuust right in late October and early November. The only place I could stand up without hitting my head was in the middle of the room. Getting there required climbing a ladder, the bottom of which was in Pat's room, which became Dooley's room half way through the year.

You can't really see it in much detail, but the giant tree coming up over the right chimney was the walnut tree that we all parked under. We hadn't put two and two together to figure out that it was the walnuts falling that put all the dents in our cars. Pat figured it out after a cracked windshield. The insurance claim agent came out and assessed it, and he got a new windshield. No less than two weeks later, Pat parked under the tree again. The tree saw a brand new windshield under it and aimed, fired, and delivered. This time, insurance decided not to pay for it.

Finally, though you can't see it, the backyard is where Darren took a dirt nap on a cornhole board in the pouring rain, while Owen and I stood on the back deck with an umbrella, seeing who could peg him the most number of beers.


Standing in lieu of the hideous couch:
The wedding was a good time; it was in Mebane, and with that comes some pretty special perks. For one, it was the first time I had ice cold Natty lights at a reception. Secondly, I started eating what I thought was a piece of beef wrapped in bacon, only to learn that they were chicken livers. I convinced a few others that they were in fact beef, and they nearly threw up after trying them. That's Grant 1; the others 0.

Here's Jensen and I for good measure, and she looks awesome.