Another short story about the end, titled by the name of the song playing at the time I started writing it.
I liked piling fifteen people into Naughty Jan and bussing to Q’s last night. And I liked seeing everybody at Menehune’s on that last night when everybody was still here and I talked to people from the Penthouse that I haven’t talked to — like, talked to talked to. And I’m pretty sure I’ll like Defrost Fest 2004, which I’m having tonight. But easily, the best way to end the year was going to the top of Storke Tower. Champagne at sunset, 140 feet above the ant-land campus we’ve all been scurrying about for the last four years.
It’s video game-like, the process of getting there. A few well-placed phone calls, and bam — I get this magical key that grants me access to this special place. I even have to put the key in the slot and turn it to make the elevator go all the way to the observation deck.
There’s something neat about seeing the bells that we’ve heard ring all these years. These bells, they’re something. I could fit inside the bigger ones. Me and a friend could fit in the biggest. And looking 180 degrees at everything, at home. It’s cool. In less than one minute, I can see Pasado and the Nexus office and the beach and the lagoon and Campbell Hall and the Goleta Pier and the airport.
God bless you, Mr. Storke. God bless you for having an ego raging enough to demand the tallest structure in Santa Barbara County.