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The room became low-key famous, and soon was decorated with neon beer signs, posters, and a couple of couches and rugs that we salvaged from friends and neighbors, and then moved into the secret room when his mother wasn’t home. It was epic, there were lots of great parties and afterparties, and many nights spent sleeping off the alcohol on those couches. The gig was finally up at high school graduation when a number of folks mentioned the playroom in my buddy’s yearbook, and his mother happened to read the kudos and thanks to that folks had written. “Thanks for the playroom, man!!” “Buddy, what a great party we had in the playroom!” Needless to say, I got real drunk real fast. I was dating back then, and the party eventually moved into the apartment since it got late and the party room had closed. I can’t say I remember anything other than being in the elevator, but I was told, the following morning, a very curious series of events.
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