Day 1
It’s really not Day 1, it’s Day 2. However, for the first time, I’ve been inspired to write. I’ve been persuaded to write, by the sound of the guitar in the bed beside me. I suppose I should preface this.

I work for the National Park Service. This week I am working in Harper’s Ferry National Historic Park, in Harper’s Ferry West Virginia. It’s truly an amazing little town; so much history. Normally I reside in Arlington Virginia, however this week I am being housed in a structure built in the early 1800’s on park property. So, I am rooming with 3 other guys, two of which I am working with this week and another who must be an adjudicated youth (a youth 30 years of age).

So assuming it’s still day one -- I check in to my "room." I must have assumed too much when I planned on park housing. Sheets, towels, etc are usually a given. I expected there might not be soap or shampoo, but sheets??? Upon inspecting the room for a future check out to make sure I hadn’t destroyed the property, I knew that I’d be making a trip to the much dreaded Wal- I can’t even finish the name. I hate the place, but I know at 8:00 at night, in a town that probably once had a general store, this was the only place I could find bedding. The girls from the SCA (Student Conservation Association), which I’d be training, joined me. They needed to purchase some groceries to make dinner. So we ventured to the downfall of American culture and began our adventure. Although I am in uniform, I peruse the beer aisle because I assume I’ll need it living with these three heteros. Now believe me, I am not discriminating against the straights, I love them all (err, most), but some really fill their stereotype. While I was inspecting my quarters for approval, I made certain that cleanliness was not something that was inspected. I knew immediately that I must be lodged with three straight men. You know the typical; toilet paper on the ground because it’s not worth actually putting on the holder because it will just run out again. And under those guidelines, why even clean the toilet when it also will dirty again. I don’t think the bath mat has been washed, or even shaken off since these gentlemen moved in. It’s a shame that you actually dodge the bath mat in fear of infection. So, in fear of Athlete’s Feet, I scrub diligently (that’s another story).

Ok, I am finished with the workday; settle down in my nicely bedded twin bed when I hear this obnoxious drilling. I cannot imagine what is being drilled at this time, but beyond a shadow of a doubt, it’s a drill. I walk around the house and discover that it’s coming from upstairs (John or Victor’s room). I study the noise; maybe it’s actually grooming clippers. Well no, I can’t imagine that someone has that much hair to cut through; it’s no doubt a drill. After dinner, John brings down the product from the drill; a seven piece band!! I cannot name all of the pieces, but somehow this creative youngster created a washbasin bass guitar, a flute, a mandolin, and four other no-name pieces all from string, bamboo, beer bottle caps (that was my contribution I didn’t even know I made), and a crafty drill. I think sadly enough he actually spent his 60$ stipend on the drill and suffered a week without food. The drilling continued while I continued turning up the volume on my iPod.

Day 2
Two of the guys fixed dinner, and very un-straight of them, they prepared sushi! BRAVO Gentlemen, I am very impressed. However I was about 30 minutes late for dinner and I had leftovers. I wasn’t really late, John told me 7, I arrived a 6:45 and they were finishing. So, I enjoyed the leftover fake sushi. You know, California Rolls. Although it wasn’t tuna or eel, I was pleased to have an ethnic delight. The girls tempt me with shots of tequila followed by vodka. So the night goes on, I find myself 1 hr later "chilling" with the girls. It sadly happened so naturally. If perhaps the straight men had been something to gawk at, I would have followed them home. I finally make my way back to my room to be shocked by the noise of a guitar. Another noise to drown out. I must be right back in college again. You would think when you request park housing that the administrator might warn you that you’d be living with a bunch of college kids. They’re great, don’t get me wrong. But I was honestly expecting a nice cabin alone. So back to Dave Matthews -- My roommate, Victor, is jamming away on his guitar, sitting in the middle of our room with his guitar case open. I felt like tossing change into the open case as I walked by, but I figure this will not amuse him. At this point, I am inspired to write. I had to let someone know the events, or these college moments I am reliving. I lie in bed and open my computer and start typing. As the sentences continue, I realize that Victor actually isn’t so bad; his vocals are quite soothing.

So, just so you’ll know, it’s actually Day 3 now, but nothing too exciting happened. I prepared hamburgers for the folks and used John’s hibachi grill. The Food Lion burgers were so fatty that the entire grill was in blazes. The handle eventually charred and fell off the side. I consider searching for a new handle for John, but this is the kid who made a 7 piece band from scratch. I am sure he can rummage up something for a new handle.