Fall 1989

I cover a lot about Fairbanks in the part about Volga P, but there are a couple of things I didn’t mention. For instance, I didn’t tell you about puke shards.

There was a big party off campus at the home of some poor sucker who put too much trust in his kid. In the middle of the mayhem of this party George grabbed me and shouted, Puke shards! Come on!

He dragged me out to the second story deck where Tom was doubled over the railing, mid-spew. He heaved a really nice jet, which arced out and then shattered on the ground below.

Puke shards. Did I mention it was winter? Yeah, that’s winter fun in Fairbanks. Airborne liquids freeze before they hit the ground, that’s how cold it gets.

I was laying in bed one night—well I guess it was night. It was dark anyway. Winter in Fairbanks, it could’ve been 3 p.m. and I was sleeping one off. It’s dark like 20 hours a day there, so who knows.

I see these strobes lighting up my dorm room every couple minutes. Pretty weird since I’m on the eighth floor. Intrigued, I went over to the window and looked way down at the parking lot. Some students were filling pitchers of water out of the back of their car, throwing it up in the air and then snapping photos as it turned to ice crystals and floated away. Pretty cool. I guess these guys weren’t drinkers though. I mean, puke shards. Way cooler.

Most of my other non-Volga P related memories involve freezing or puking or tripping on acid with my friends and tearing up napkins all night at “America’s Farthest-North” Denny’s. But that sentence just told you everything you need to know, so I’ll spare you further details.

After the school year ended, there was one more summer of fishing back in Kenai, and then it was off to the bright lights of the big city of Portland, Oregon.

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