February 1983 a huge snowstorm hit the east coast. It pounded the little town of Harrisonburg Virginia where I was a terrible student trying to not fail out of James Madison University. I lived with four women in a big house off campus on Old South High Street. It was tucked behind the railroad tracks and a grain factory, close to campus and close to Harrisonburg’s then adorable downtown. Across the street was another big house with a bunch a guys that were also terrible students also trying to not fail out of JMU.
The storm hit! School was canceled! Everything was closed. It was really a big icy mess of a storm. Luckily, there was this tiny little store on the back road just behind Old South High that was opened because the owner lived in an apartment above the store. My house and the house of boys both got kegs and rolled them into our respective houses. We cranked the B-52 and drank beer all day. Running, probably barefoot, from house to house depending on what song was playing where. My house was cranking the B-52’s and some Prince. The boys were going more with a mix of Bowie, Culture Club (no joke) and some just super loud country type of stuff. It was awesome.