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The Maroon
IP’age 8
January 1997
Old School
by john hamlin
The year is 1993. It's a Friday night in
the ATL and I, a wide-eyed freshman,
am searching for a party. That's not a
problem though, because all I have to
do is look at the tons of flyers under
neath my door promoting hype joints at
the various clubs around the city. I can
go to the Garage for the lo-lo and get
my party on with Dee-Mello and the
crew. I could swing over to the Soho and
get busy NYC style with Sol and tin
many celebs guaranteed to beThfgrerl
finally decide to do what everyj
in the AUC (and the rest of At*
that matter) does ancj,.«gove
Warehouse with 2620, DJ Searcy, Apple-
jack, andjttfe, 1 a o^ymy 1.
Fa^^rayard to: 1996. I'm now a se
nior, n's TMjday night, and there ain't
jack to doqPh'e Garage has turned
into the Pyramid or one of its other
hundred names and nobody's checkin'
it. The Soho has become Centennial
Olympic Park and the only people danc
ing are the bums around the water foun
tain. Well, one can always count on the
Warehouse- my bad, it's the World Club
now, and the only people there are fa'
ones sipping Cristal looking real dum’
The Platinum blouse?- same ste^>, dif
ferent and smaller vdg&e. WhafSfeap-
pened?
Unfortunately, jPSfcai^ disease that
has hit hip-hop has decimated the At
lanta clu^SCene. ATfew years ago, the
clubs would pack 'em
■ekends. Everybody would
together and get their party on re-
dless of what coast, school, or de
signer you were claiming. Kids from
New York would be booty-shaking right
next to shawtys from Atlanta doing the
pepperseed. One would only sport a fly
t-shirt and not label-layer cuz' before it
was over, you'd probably be cc ming out
of that DKNY anyway.
The bar was^a place to place your
drink aft noifrt^Lyour ass to post for
he cmwfl^l^kcBhks of chaice were
3^el®s^in and juice; Heineken
and^jjnjr were reserved for the VIP's,
lly, if I'm paid a $12 cover charge,
mebody besides Shante from 'round
the way was onstage getting busy. The
parties were so hype sometimes that
people would skip the shuttle and take
that hike from the Omni back to cam
pus, just so you could get that last bit of
partying in.
Is there a cure? Sure. If you want to
go to the club to play Big Willie or be
the Black Erica Kane, do the rest of us a
favor and chill at home with BET. If you
want to promote a party based on the
liquor being served that night, throw a
party at a Buckhead bar. If you want to
get busy and leave all that pseudo-
bulls*^ at the door, come check me.
I'll be at Club 559 with the true folk.
Rituals
by da undadog dakota grandeur
a.k.a "the Downsizer"
Once again it's Friday and I rise in the
nocturnal sunshine in pursuit of what
to do for the Voltron crew. The Emory
Black Student Association has put to
gether a jam on their campus,
somethin's poppin at the Casino and
there's always a house party somewhere
in the mix. So I hit the showers and the
LagerHdp§;fcib my baggiest pair o
jeans, a Timbteflaifd p-sJjfTt'gind t
the fleecetOn before I sp^rk up the
and headtowarcrs the Vonron HQ?
When I arrive the God Tommy Fla
mingo and the Dun Johnny Sparks are
already ready, viciously verbally cap
ping on each other and playing NBA
Live while Sexy Ray, the erotic assas
sin, is still in the shower. Jules the
Impaler is stretched out on the couch
watching videos, indifferent to the game
plan. Coco Havana , Carter Kenobi,
Champale, Dirty Maurice Knuckles and
Papa Smurf Duvalier are off doing their
own thing for the night.
Dap is exchanged. "So what's up for
the night?" I ask. Sparks wants the Ca
sino and Flamingo wants Emory. I just
want to be any place where the oppo
site sex dwells in numbers 'cause I'm
tryin to get off the rebound. We all know
that Ray just wants to be where every
body if§So the consensus is that Rave
hing|fv% don ou
bands and jettiso:
of the AUCweek-
end.
Everybody has their Friday rituals,
their means of transcending the stress
and strain of majors, minors and the in
structors that dine on our time like deli
cacies. We hit the weights, the little black
books, the theaters, the clubs, the liquor
stores and even the weed spots in search
of escapism from the monotony of ma
triculating through higher learning.
We amass our teams and trudge into
the night whether it's just to the next
dorm over for a game of cards or all
the way to Stone Mountain for a
homegirl's get together. It's a means by
which we discover ourselves through
the activities we participate in. Do you
get off on a dance floor full of high-
priced fashion and flossing or a few
folks crowded around a bowl of pop
corn and a VCR? Does letting it all hang
out require chemicals or the quiet whis
pers of jpSigrtificant other in the silence
f yoi^trib?
Lik^^erydifig elsBinfiollege life
ing omnve?iB a'means ror us to
develop our decision-making processes.
Every Friday, Saturday and Sunday we
have to decide what's best for us sans
Mama, Daddy and previously omni
present curfew and requests for the car.
There's always something to do, and if
we do it the right way now, then hope
fully we'll do it the right way for the rest
of our lives.