Friday the 13th, a day deemed unlucky by superstition, seems the most appropriate day to say goodbye to a place that I called my home for over a year.
The Halfway House.
Referring to it as this, not only causes strangers to second guess my sanity and criminal background, but represents a lifestyle that only few have had the pleasure to experience.
In less than a year from now I will drive past where it’s infamous walls once stood and see, instead, a (probably super stellar) condo where people will pay too much for amenities that we never had any use for. But what they will never know is what they missed out on.
It is a place where I have found friends and lost dignity. A place that if the walls could speak, their words would be slurred and unintelligible. Memories were made and most of them were forgotten. Full kegs in the backyard did not always mean, ‘Party!‘ but sometimes just – ‘Tuesday night!‘ No one ever had to drink alone and Mary Jane’s Pizza was always a drunk dial away.
Tonight is the night where we say goodbye. It may soon be gone but certainly never forgotten.
To celebrate its life and imminent death – I had every intention of making Jell-O Shots, even got all of the ingredients. But ended up going to a bar with my friends instead. Whatareyagonnado?