Home archeology

In the fall of 2000 my friend Marjorie and her housemates got to wondering about a padlocked door in the basement of the home they rented. Their curiosity finally got the better of them, and so, like Howard Carter in Tutankhamen's tomb, they pried the door open. What they found blew their minds: a perfectly preserved rec room fully appointed with vintage 1970s furnishings and electronics--waterbed, wet bar, eight track player, black-light Jim Morrison posters. The housemates dubbed the room the 70s Room, appropriately, and at their frequent parties the 70s Room was the place to be.

Ereck and I attended one of these parties. It was a Ralph Nader fundraiser, and our suspicion of Nader notwithstanding, we purchased raffle tickets. How could we not? The grand prize was a night in the 70s Room.

There was some mixup about the drawing--a foreshadowing of that year's election debacle?--but it finally emerged that the winner was Ereck! We were so excited. We had just begun dating, and a night in the 70s Room sounded most romantic.

Unfortunately, although we made a few inquiries, we never did get Ereck's night in the 70s Room. Marjorie has since moved away, and sometimes I wonder whatever became of the 70s Room. They probably built condos on it.