Former DJ Recalls Following Yellow Brick Road
There are times in my life that I can look back upon and smile. They bring back nothing but fond memories.
They're mostly from my college days, when I was footloose and fancy free.
In the early days, I wasn't much of a student. Looking back, I probably had no business even seeking a higher education.
I'd been an average student in high school. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I'd only achieved average status to remain eligible for sports and to remain in my mother's good graces.
If the only university I'd applied to for admission hadn't accepted me, I don't know where I'd be today.
Every report card I'd ever received stated the exact same thing: "Randy has potential, but he needs to apply himself."
I know that for a fact. My mother kept every report card I'd ever received and I recently discovered them neatly secured in a cabinet at my parent's house. She keeps everything.
My pursuit of a bachelor's degree in broadcasting only came about due to the fact my guidance counselor encouraged me to take a test to determine my future inclinations.
Surprisingly, disc jockey appeared on the resulting list of options.
Being a DJ sounded like fun, so, I went for it -- emphasis on fun.
Boy, was it. I certainly applied myself in that regard.
My floor mates in the dorm also appeared to be majoring in fun. We minored in going to class. Studying was an option.
At the time, our biggest accomplishment was winning the intramural flag-football championship as independents.
It was actually quite prestigious, especially after having put an end to the dynasty established by one of the jock-infested fraternity houses.
We celebrated by getting shitfaced at the "Gin Mill," which was the Greek bar they patronized, proudly sporting the t-shirts provided to us by our loyal sponsor: Lone Star Beer.
We were deplorable.
My campus notoriety would be further increased with the assistance of fellow disc jockey, Perry Bax, on the campus radio station, of which we were founding members. Unfortunately,