I usually pride myself on my long-term memory. (Let's not discuss my short-term memory where someone can tell me a time or a number four times and I'll forget it by the time I get to the other side of the room, okay?) I remember sitting in my car seat, dropping my bear-shaped bottle full of orange juice on the floor of the car, getting frustrated and crying. I remember falling into the tub of the apartment we moved out of when I was 3, hitting my head on the side, crying even though it didn't really hurt, and feeling all better when my mom gave me a few M&M's. My memory is awesome! Or so I thought.
I don't remember what it was (short-term again...ahem), but something made me remember an interesting couple of days in college. It started out as a protest that the students in my housing complex decided to hold against the director who didn't listen to the needs/complaints of the students living there while living in her posh digs up on the top floor of the building. I really have no idea why things were so unfair. I mean, we were living in two-bedroom loft apartments with full kitchens, private bathrooms, an excercise room, a game room, music practice rooms and friendly security guards. Sure, the hallways could have used a fresh coat of paint and things weren't perfect, but this was the first year our school provided any housing; there were kinks to be worked out. Other than the psycho roommate I had for a while and the neighbors who would play Madonna at all hours that I could hear even while wearing earplugs and then get mad at me when I'd knock on their door to ask them to turn it down, my time there was pretty pleasant. Of course I say this now. Back when I was 19, I heard about people being treated unfairly and by gosh I was going to do something about it!
The protest was in the form of a sit-in in the commons area. (This is where we would always convene after the numerous pulled fire alarms at all hours and would get lectured by the Chicago Fire Department.) I changed the message on our answering machine (yes this was pre-cell phones) letting people know we weren't there because we were busy sitting-in and would get back to them once our point had been made, and after the fire alarm was pulled to signal the beginning (great idea, people) my roommates and I proceeded down to sit...in.
The police were outside because of the fire alarm, a news cameraman was there because one of the "organizers" invited him, but things were completely unorganized, nobody really knew what was being protested, but they sure were mad, and then somehow all hell broke loose when the cameraman was asked to leave and then ended up getting arrested and I think a couple of the students were arrested as well. Pretty exciting for a girl from a town of 7,000 people.
I don't remember anything else from that night. I guess we just went back to our rooms?
This is blank memory spot number one. Feel free to fill in the blanks with your own colorful ideas. After that we __________ (verb) to our __________ (noun).
The next day, one of my roommates (I had anywhere from 2-3 roomies over the course of 2 semesters) and I were walking through the lobby of our building and she did a double-take toward the security desk. "Oh my god, I just creamed my pants. That's __________ from Channel ___ News! He's a fuckin' god!"
And this is where the most frustrating part of this spotty memory lies. For the life of me, I cannot remember the name of the reporter who was there or the channel he was with. I suppose it's not terribly important, but I'm now obsessed with trying to find this out.
I had no clue who this person was. We didn't have a tv in our room, so I never watched the news, and being from Wisconsin, I wasn't familiar with the Chicago news-folk. I had to agree with her astute observation of his good looks though. God? Maybe not, but he was pretty easy on the eyes.
We decided to non-chalantly go over to the security desk to see what was up and if we could be of any assistance. He and his cameraman were trying to take a look around, but they wouldn't allow him in for security reasons unless he was a guest of a resident and signed in as any other guest would. We were more than happy to make him our guest. The cameraman had to stay behind though. We didn't care, he wasn't that cute anyway. The kind security guard was a little leery, but had no valid reason to say no, so he was ours! Okay, our guest.
____________ (Ugh!) signed in, gave his ID, and we were off. We showed him where the director lived, the smell of fresh paint wafting through the air. We took him to the common areas including the game room and exercise room, and then we took him up to our floor and then our room. (Yeah baby!) The walls oh the hallways were in dire need of a new paint job, the carpeting already needed to be replaced, and the smell of pot (it was an art school) mingled with the nose-stinging aroma of burned popcorn, but it all passed as soon as we got in our room. Clean, spacious, 4 empty beds...
And then I go blank again, so now it's time to play. We took ___________ (name) to our ___________ (place) and __________ (verb) until we couldn't ____________ (verb) anymore.
When we were done, he asked if he could interview one of us, and me being an introvert but not wanting to miss a rare opportunity, agreed. He had me stand on the front stairs of the building and asked me questions about the conditions, the reports of racism (which I really hadn't heard much about though it was apparently the underlying reason for the protest that I hadn't heard about), and damn he had beautiful blue eyes.
Spotty memory again. He asked me "How do you feel about __________ (noun) in your _________(noun)?" To which I replied, "I'm a small-town girl. I don't really _________(verb) that way." I do remember wanting to kick myself after the small-town girl comment though because I just happened to be dressed in overalls, a white tank top, white Chucks and had my hair in pigtails. Way to go city, girl! Also, the fact that I can remember exactly what I was wearing, but not what the guy's name was astonishes me.
My response, what ever it might have been, made him chuckle and then he threw this one at me. "Well, Danny Bonaduce lives just down the road from you. What do you think about that." I laughed at that one and replied...um, yeah...I have no idea what I said. Let's just make this one up completely. "I think he should __________ (verb) __________ (plural noun) in a _________(adjective) _________(place)."
That was the end. I watched the news in the tv in our commons area at 5,6 and 10, but there was no story about our little student scuffle at all. I guess our little unorganized hubbub really had no bearing on the outside world - especially in a city as big as Chicago. Of course, maybe the fact that it was John Wayne Gacy's execution day had something to do with it.
A year or two later, I remember being at a movie and Mr. News God played a news anchor...or an entertainment news show anchor. I don't really remember, And I certainly don't remember which movie it was. I do remember turning to my fiance and saying a little louder than I should have, "Oh my god! That man was in my bedroom!" It was met with extremely puzzled looks from the people around me and I had some explaining to do after the movie was over.
I've scoured the internet looking for both a list of Chicago reporters from 1994 and "news anchor" characters on IMDB, but haven't found what I'm looking for. (I did find one Chicago reporter who was in a movie in the 90's, but that was Lester Holt who is now on the Today Show. Though my reporter's skin color was very similar...this was not Lester Holt.)
The internet has failed me. My memory has failed me. Hopefully you can help me out. If you know your Chicago newscasters and have a clue as to who this might have been or if you came up with some great Mad Lib memories, leave them in the comments.
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