Pietro Street

I like to think I went into it innocently...

...but in reality, I had worried about it for weeks, and the thought of living with my party-friendly high school friends keeping me up at night. After I signed the lease, I really started to worry. The house was pretty great, even though it was creepily under the bridge. But by noon on the first day our lease began, our friends began showing up with kegs of beer and boxed wine. I found stacks (stacks!) of ten-year-old porn magazines under my mattress, and adding to the drama, the first boy who I was head-over-heels-in-love-with moved into the extra bedroom, to help pay the rent. We hadn't lived in the house for a full day, but it was already the party house for our entire graduating class. I just wanted to be a hermit, but my door was too thin to block out noise, and it was frequently opened by drunk make-out sessions searching for a free bed.

Maybe most people would want to live in the party house the summer after graduation, maybe they would enjoy the excitement. But it just wasn't me, and I got out of the lease and found a one-bedroom on Cobun, which I refer to as my first apartment.

I still hung out a lot at Pietro Street, and it seemed that every time I was there, there was someone new crashing on the sofa, and at least one new mind-altering substance being experimented with. There were new cigarette burns in the carpet, and new porn magazines to replace the decade-old ones I had found. I always had an appreciation for the solitude and controllability of my one-bedroom apartment after my short visits to Pietro.

Back to space, students, or first apartment