short skirts and long jackets

Remember those days when Cake, Radiohead, Bjork and all sorts of punk rock dominated the airwaves? Remember? No, you don't remember, because they were never on the airwaves. Tough luck, too, because I listened to that music obsessively when I lived in Tennessee. I also partied harty and sat daily in the ornate chairs of a downtown coffeeshop called GreyFriars, spent day and night contemplating my own existence (mental masturbation), and running wild throughout Old Chattanooga. Of course, those were also the days that my padres were paying my rent, my insurance, and even providing me a monthly allowance for doing nothing. (somebody say, spoiled?)

This raises the question: Would I have such fond memories of my 22-month romp in the south, had I a job at the time? Would anyone else in similar circumstances? Consider this: I initially moved to Chattanooga for the purpose of attending Neuromuscular Massage Therapy School. The premise was that it comprised part of my education, so my parents agreed to fit the bill (spoiled). That meant everything, including a nice, upscale apartment, all of my utilities and phone bills, all of my furniture, my car, my insurance, EVERYTHING! This lasted for 12 months, from start to finish, for the entire time I was enrolled in the Tennessee Institute of Healing Arts.

After graduation, I started dating a girl and hence refused to leave her and my many friends in the South. Yet my parents, with all of the best intentions, insisted on paying my way through it all. So I moved downtown. I was less than a block from Coolidge Park. My apartment was really more of a duplex that was shared by my roommate, Scott, and it was located on top of a beautiful, sloping hill that overlooked the entire downtown waterfront. I still remember it as if it was almost paradise, and it almost was.
It should go without saying that every time I revisited my Indiana roots, they looked less and less appealing compared to the phenomenal lifestyle available in Tennessee. Meghan O'Hara (for you blog history buffs out there... yes, the Meghan O'Hara from the famous original Squirrel Bait blog-to-begin-all-blogs) would even cook for me with true culinary skill when I was juicing my colon with too many tasty-greasy Krystal burgers. In fact, she managed to take care of me any time I needed the lift, so I must attribute a significant amount of my "fun" to her tremendous hospitality. (luvya Meg!)

I would sit on the GreyFriars sidewalk with Meg and all of my friends (some whose names I never even learned or have since forgotten) for hours on end, while Scott, who happened to be employed at this fine establishment, would hook me up with the best coffee available (Celebes... order a half-pound of beans from RareCoffee.com... you will be amazed). By the way, Scott's employment here was no coincidence. When I decided to stay in the city, I literally stood up at the coffee shop and asked if there was anybody who needed a roommate. Scott was working, and answered immediately with a "yes, can you afford [this much]?" Of course I could, Scott, my parents were loaded!

So, the downtown life reached a new pinnacle with the new, perfect location. I would have all day to plan my evening. I would have no deadlines, no alarm clocks, no limitations whatsoever.

It was, literally, an all-expenses-paid vacation for two straight years.

Now, imagine if my parents hadn't spoiled me for two years straight:
Not so much free time, still, nothing to lose because of the distance from home, which is a true helping of freedom, I must admit. So 30+ hours a week I was working... that leaves at least 8 full hours a day that I could have spent screwing around with my downtown friends. Afford the car? Likely... it was completely paid off and all I needed was cheap insurance. Afford the apartment? Probably still, with the 50/50 cut of a roommate still applying. Afford the coffee? Um...

So, a few of the extracurricular activities would have been muted, big deal. It seems, from my perspective, that the time spent in Chatty was inevitably time well spent, give or take a little character that could have been gained from some added responsibility.

This means that the answer is a decisive yes. Scott, Meghan, Jason, Ardyce, Brian, Wade, Missy, Jenny and the whole rest of the gang in that town would have still been integral parts of the downtown lifestyle, and inevitably would have made (as they did) the entire experience a lifetime keeper. My Linux Guru brother should be mentioned as my first roommate in the first apartment, but, well, nah. Hehe...

So, if you're ever available for a year or two, I suggest investing the time in Downtown Chattanooga, TN. From my experience (and from my brother's--don't let him fool you), it can only result in gratification.

Oh, and how did the Neuromuscular Massage Therapy career end? I went to commercial flight school, graduated, and became a Seminar Representative at Trinity College of the Bible in Southern Indiana.

Go figure.

dfb