Bronx, New York
I've felt badly about being listed here for a long time, 'cause officially I never rushed or was formally intoxicated as an Omega, but I did come to live in the east suite of phase (my window was closest to the cemetery) in typical Omega fashion.
While all the Burtonites were busy pulling fire alarms and pissing of the tater-delts, I was freshing in SBA with Stu Mann and a cast of misbegottens (do Ed Fishman, Dave (Jake) Markason, Mike (Psych-)O'brien, Michael Alfieri, Larry DiGiansanti, Bruce Shamulka, Deepak Viswanath, Ted Lehrer, Tom (Wally) Knoll, John Adamson, Pete Oakes, (Captain) Mike Freeda et alia ring a bell?). That summer, back in NYCity, I ran into Kenzo Kobashi (wearing his trademark black turtleneck and shuriken necklace), who I went to Bx Science with, and he told me that he had joined this frat that did a lot of drugs and did I want to room with him there soph year? Cool....
So I show up at Phase in Sept. with a cool double but no sign of Kenzo. I pushed his bed into the corner and took over his side of the room with my stereo, smoked Camels with Griggs, and argued about Joyce and the relative merits of Joy Division vs. New Order with Dave Scar, John Hardy and Eraser-X, while Rastablum and I lurked in the tunnels at night coolecting bottles from Dead End Publicans to recycle into a trip to the Bahamas (I think we were about 5,000 cases short).
Two weeks later...still no Kenzo (I find out later he went back to Japan). Suddenly Geen pops his head into my room and says "You're getting a roommate...he's a real dick but you'll like him...his name's Lenney." So much for the single life.
So I was "adopted," and noone seemed to care that I wasn't an official Omega (maybe they were relieved, I dunno), but one year, several thousand birds, fifty dozen ty-dyes, oodles of doodles (thanks TN), one visit by Milo nosecandy, one visit by the heat while Geen and I were were sorting some peculiar-smelling vegetables on the suite table (the fuzz were looking for Ray Langlois-- who de-camped to be replaced by the ever-thrifty Todd Dubois), tons of reggae with the Treasurer, one burned foot (sorry lenney, no 4.0), one break-in (my amp was too fuckin heavy for you, assholes, but I did get my picture in the D&C), 40,000 games of fooze, 50 buckets of wings'n'beer at the Distillery (per week, I think), one day of community service downtown, countless garbage plates with extra grizzle, one broken window...I guess it was too much for me, so I returned to the City to help Rastaboom print Ghostbusters T-shirts all summer and never looked back...until now.
Thanks for a great year!
Burton Basement | Omega Finder