Hey, remember 1992?
I was living in New Brunswick, New Jersey, just off the campus of Rutgers College, in a house with three guys and three other women. We were all friends, and our two apartments had open door policies--it was like the Real World, without the randomness. A Clinton/Gore sticker was suspended in one of the upper windows of our house. It was the beginning of senior year, we were minutes away from all the coolest bars, and we were the masters of all we surveyed. We hosted a great Halloween party (my first) that impressed friends visiting from Brandeis, carved a pumpkin that looked more confused than scary, and we dissected each other's love lives. Plus there was a Krauszer's convenience store just down the block.
What there weren't? Cell phones. DVRs. DVDs. "The Internet." Email. Nostalgia shows on VH1. Reality TV. MP3 players. And lots of other things that we didn't know we needed till they arrived.
Which is why I got a kick out of this piece in the New Yorker. You know I have my issues with the New Yorker, but I do enjoy Shouts and Murmurs. Wouldn't mind doing a piece for that column someday.
(Hat tip: Norma)