An Appropriately Named Room

January 5, 2012
By ChildishSambino GOLD, Austin, Texas
ChildishSambino GOLD, Austin, Texas
13 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
A lot of mothers will do anything for their children, except let them be themselves. -Banksy

The space I am about to describe to you looks like it should be featured on a pathetic TLC TV show that only airs at 1:00 O’clock on Tuesday afternoons. The playroom at my bandmate's house, which they refer to as the Recreation Room (or Rec Room), has the appearance and stench of John Belushi’s frat house in the movie Animal House. This room is every mother’s nightmare and every 15-year-old boy’s heaven. The back room of the residence, where my band rehearses, is my favorite place.

Once you take your first step into the Rec Room you will see why the name is so ironic. Though the family refers to the Rec Room with an “R” most people view this room as a Wreck Room with a “W.” A toy car here, a drum stick there, a bowling pin on top of the keyboard, the room screams the very definition of the word cluttered. However I think it is the very disorganization that makes the room so homelike. Though I would not recommend walking barefoot into this monstrosity of a playroom (I have stepped on many a Lego piece in this room) it gives off a sense of laziness and unkemptness that is usually only found in the comfort of ones own bedroom. In most rooms at a host’s house, you might normally feel uncomfortable taking your shoes off and letting the foul odor permeate through the house. However in this room, I can assure you, the smell of feet is not the most offensive smell to ever grace the presents of this sanctuary.

You step into the room. Inhale a deep breath (aahh). The perfect combination of stale pizza and flat Mountain Dew. The aroma that lingers from that back room could be traced from miles away. The pot of spaghetti, which Jackson, the band’s drummer, made the previous night at 2 A.M., still rests atop the bass guitar amp. That rinky-dink piece of particleboard they call a door, does not stand a chance against the stench of noodles some 12 hours later. The sensation of taking in the glorious smells of the room is only comparable to one other feeling: Hearing my band mate Will ease through Stairway to Heaven on the guitar.

Everything from Flight of the Bumblebees to bad ‘90’s grunge music has been played in this room. The drum set in the corner has been banged on for 2 generations of Pritchetts. The 30-year-old bass guitar that rests against the X-Box can really only stay in tune through about two Ramones songs, but I just call it “vintage” and let it slide. The P.A. system, which takes up about half of the already cramped space, makes the Rec Room a perfect band rehearsal space. Allowing all members of the band to plug into one speaker ensures that everyone is at the same volume level. Many bands, and unfortunately probably some fungi, call this music room home.

Though this small space cannot even begin to compare to the bakeries of Paris or the cafés of Italy, it’s cozy and secure. You feel safe in this room. In this room you feel as if nothing can be hurt… Well except for perhaps your ears.

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