Went off to college in August 1987. I was 17 years old and about as stupid as they come as far as making good decisions. My mom dropped me off on a Friday, and I was soon after partying with the guys who lived in Gault Hall. Monday was Labor Day. I spent most of it drinking. Sometime that evening, Gary something (can't remember his last name) said he could get all of us in to The Garden Lounge. So the troupe sauntered off through the back door of Gault Hall and across the field by married student housing heading toward downtown. Halfway across this field, I realized I had no money on me. SO I turned around and headed back. Found money, then ran after everyone. Only I was quite drunk and having a hard time seeing. I only vaguely knew where this bar was.
I found it. But not before everyone else had already gotten in. Blearily I tried to enter, telling the bouncer I was supposed to meet someone. He steadfastly asked for my I.D. I decided to not push my luck, told him I really didn't need to drink anymore, and turned around.
Just outside the Lounge is Friendship Square. I vaguely recognized a bench, and decided it looked very comfortable. Over the next 2 hours I drifted in and out while laying on that bench. Every once in a while I remember hearing a girl giggling as she and a guy played at heavy petting on the other bench. Then oblivion.
Then sometime around 4 a.m., I woke up suddenly and decided I needed to get home. Only I didn't know where home was. Wouldn't have were I sober even. So I headed off down Main Street, feeling my way along the side of the buildings. Soon I came to 6th St and started to cross. I looked up. I saw the street sign. I realized I lived on 6th St. So I turned right and headed toward the University. After another block, the gentleman who had been on the other bench showed up out of nowhere (well, from off Jackson St. actually). He lived in the same building I did and helped me the rest of the way home.