Today Was A Good Day

October 26, 1996. My junior year in college. The time had come yet again for me and my boys to attend Howard homecoming in DC. There were certain events that one absolutely had to partake in as a college student to validate your cool and this was one of them. NY & Philadelphia Greek Fest, Penn Relays, Freaknic, Homecoming (Howard, Hampton, Morgan State in perceived order of social relevance) were all on our collective itineraries. These events were a rite of passage when I was in school and still may be today (the ones in existence anyway). Not only where they infrequent opportunities to get away from the self inflicted rigors of NYC, it was also a conduit to meet new and exciting women, get them drunk and bring them back to the hotel for some sweet love makin’. We had all convinced ourselves that girls outside of NY had never seen NY men before and were completely smitten by the mere mention of us, and we were right (mostly).

The opportunities for sex weren’t so much as important as the stories amassed on the excursion (ok, it was probably the only reason we went in the first place but since we failed more than we succeeded, I will opt for nostalgia). This one particular homecoming seemed special though. For whatever reason, everything was going better than expected. The McDonalds where everyone congregated was in full bloom. I was running into friends I hadn’t seen in years. I also had the distinct pleasure of riding shotgun in my boys Range Rover. I think TLC made “No Scrubs” for me because I was definitely the designated passenger in every car (still am). Don’t recall why exactly but I had money in my wallet and that was cause enough to celebrate. We never even bothered attending the actual homecoming game because the main strip was always where the action was. In addition, it seemed like all my boys were able to attend that year so we literally drove around Washington DC in a 10 jeep caravan with all our hazard lights flashing. Nothing says adolescence like a motorcade of drunk / high obnoxious New Yorkers parading around someone else’s city like they owned it. Ahh good times!

One of my boys from NY who went to Howard also promoted parties in the DC area so he more or less had access to a majority of the clubs. We ended up at some club that had more NY based hip hop acts performing than I could remember (Foxy Brown, Case, Mobb Deep, Boot Camp Clik, etc). Somehow, my boy had managed to get 20 of us in the concert for around 10 bucks a pop so that just added to lure of the night. Needless to say, I was in hip hop heaven. Of course the show is absolutely rocking and every time The DJ asked if NY or Brooklyn was in the house, the decibel levels in the building approached critical mass . Sidebar; I live in Brooklyn and I am from NY so I am justified in yelling and screaming but it always seemed like whenever that question was asked, the whole damn club was from Brooklyn. I know 50% of y’all bastards were from Tupelo Mississippi but thanks for making it feel special. Sidebar complete.

As if all this isn’t enough, They stopped the show to announce that the Yankees had just won the World Series. Although I am a Mets fan, I am out of New York City and a New York team had just won a championship. Do you understand the social magnitude of an occurrence like this to a partially intoxicated New York City male away from home? We were about to completely get it on! Myself and the other guys from the NY metro area (whose numbers seemed to have swelled as the night progressed) lost our fucking minds! We were bouncing around like idiots and ramping it up just a few more notches than it would ordinarily be. All I remember after the concert is we had literally stopped traffic and allowed only the cars filled with men to pass. I remember one irate trucker in particular who didn’t appreciate the audacity of my boy parking his Range in front of his semi truck and not moving until he damn well felt like it. Vehicles with women however would encounter a literal road block of men asking all kinds of illicit questions regarding where they planned to be later and what we could do to facilitate an even better experience. Of course none of these women gave up their phone numbers or designation. Jumping atop someone’s vehicle as several men approached each car window (at least 2 dudes per window) with multiple inquiries is probably not the best way to get to know someone but we didn’t give a damn. It was all in good fun and the ladies knew it too. It was just part of homecoming.

I may have attended at least 3-4 more homecomings after that but nothing could ever match the feeling from that weekend (although Busta Rhymes performing “Put your hands where my Eyes can See” 3 times consecutively while Kid Capri Deejay’ed the following year was also a site to behold.) I may have severed my collarbone dancing that night. It is so welcome when the stars unexpectedly align for you to enjoy the hell out of the moment. I truly couldn’t have had a better time if I tried. As for the tales of feminine conquest, I didn’t get any booty that weekend but I did meet my ex girlfriend of 4 plus years. Leave it to me to come back with a girlfriend instead of a story. There are some benefits to being a passenger. At least you are there for the ride. All in all, I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything in the world.