Friday’s transmission got ditched midway for an unexpected opportunity to get away and have a house and a yard to myself. I’m only human.
Fridays contained an element of building anticipation, a hum that began quietly around second period Geometry I and grew into a full body buzzing by around school’s end at roughly 3:30.
Fridays entailed doing things that he would be appalled at his own children doing. Occasionally, what Fridays became was confined to the relative safety of the supervision of adult authority, unbeknownst to the adults*. But when Fridays didn’t stay on school ground or field trips, they became a hypercolour adventure in the city night, running around the canyons of a hollowed out downtown like untouchable little lunatics.
Cities are a wild playground.
The adults had clubs to go to. The kids had the streets to drive around. But they could both exist together on the radio airwaves. One of the local stations broadcast live from Club 6400, a short but pioneering experiment that brought the sounds of Europe’s Hard Beat, New Beat & Acid House scene to anyone who could tune in to the FM frequency of 93 Q. Razormaid! became a code word for this sound; it kept popping up and sounded dangerous, which all of this felt.
And those strange, wobbly sounds fascinated the kids of this story, who had their Friday pact to unshackle themselves from their kid lives with a regularly scheduled foray into surreality. Whatever this music was, it was strange and perfectly spoke to the temporary madness of their Friday brains.
*It’s hard to imagine that this was completely unbeknownst, as it was a small school and there was an incident involving a kid having either a full freakout in a 2nd floor Boy’s Room, or faking one for dramatic flair, which was disputed for a week afterwards.
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