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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.