The Good Old Days
This past weekend started with one of the most revitalizing drives I’ve had in a long time down scenic A1A from Ponte Vedra to just south of St. Augustine Beach.
My old college roommate Brian and I decided to make a weekend trip to my parents’ beach condo, me sneaking out of work early to make the drive and he road tripping from Gainesville. With a wide open two-lane strip of asphalt whirring beneath me, the bluest ocean you’ve ever seen creeping up my left side and nothing but sunshine and cloudless blue skies above me, I couldn't help but feel like a 16-year-old on his way to pick up his girlfriend on a Friday night.
I pulled up to the condo just past 5:30pm and immediately spied the infamous blacked out Grand Cherokee waiting on me. Some of my best (and worst) college nights began and ended with a ride in that Jeep. Introductions were short and discussion immediately turned to booze…
This was the start to a “guy’s weekend”. Throwing the football on the beach, whiskey and tequila shots, possibly a cigar or two, an epic Grooveshark party playlist and nights out on the town in downtown St. Augustine. No plans, just an “all I do is win” attitude. And win we did.
What’s ironic about weekends like these is even in the midst of great times, you find yourself reminiscing about old times. Here we were creating memories that will ultimately stand out as much, if not more so, than the college stories we’re so fond of reciting and still we drift back to discussing the “good old days.” We’re still single, in our 20s, and life is good. It’s not college for sure, but with less time and more money, you adjust. All I could think was weekends like this should be the rule, not the exception.
Having stories to tell is a topic Brian and I have discussed many times. And after a wild night out in St. Augustine Beach, sitting out on the 4th floor balcony of the condo looking out into the darkness where the ocean was supposed to be, we covered life since college. We talked girls. We talked work. We talked about growing up. And with each topic I found myself rambling on about how life is really just a series of stories.
The takeaway from our balcony conversation didn’t hit me until the next day as we floated lifelessly around the pool, our heads still pounding from the awesomeness of the night before.
The only way to relive the "good old days" is to create new stories. And the only way to create new stories is to quit worrying about how things used to be and start enjoying how they are now. Not every moment of college was amazing or epic or even enjoyable. But the times that were, I've recounted a million times. My friends and I have told our best stories so many times, that I'm not even always sure what's true anymore. And to be honest, I'm not sure it matters, so long as we continue to create new ones.
Here's to creating new stories and to Summer 2010, the next set of good old days.
