Back in the late seventies, just out of high school, anything was an excuse for a house party. Of course, none of us had houses, but our parents did. The best house for a party at this time was at my friend Woody’s parent’s house.
All tagged drinking
Back in the late seventies, just out of high school, anything was an excuse for a house party. Of course, none of us had houses, but our parents did. The best house for a party at this time was at my friend Woody’s parent’s house.
Author’s Note: For this post, I am not using real names. I’m not hiding a crime (well, not really) and the people involved know who they are. Usually, I would ask the people in the post if I could use their names, but in this case, I don’t have access to everyone, so ‘the names have been changed to protect...me.’
I grew up at a time that drunk driving was encouraged (kidding, of course – sort of).
It’s the end of October, outside my window the leaves have changed, the nights come quick, so what better time to talk about a shore house my friends and I rented during the summer of nineteen-seventy-nine in Seaside Heights, New Jersey.