MnB REVISITED

But not really at all. I had to go home to Western Mass Wednesday for a Doctors appointment. While watching the Celtics with Dennis (My father) and Jack (My Black Lab pictured to the left) I recieved a phonecall from Karin of MnB park. She insisted I head over to B Cliff to meet up and catch up with everybody. So before I had the chance to see the Celtics blow it I hopped into a Mercury Mountaineer (THANKS FOR LETTING ME BORROW YOUR CAR MOM) and made my way down the mountain, through the center of town, and into Springfield Mass.

"B Cliff" is short for the street Briar Cliff. I'm pretty sure Dave Thomas (Archey) Trout crafted this nickname for the house before he moved in around summer 07. Dave has since moved out, John Burns AKA JB of MnB still resides in B Cliff as well as Chris Rooke and fresh new resident Mike Briggs.

The thing about B Cliff is original MnB park goers live there so it's only natural to hang there, and MnB crew members still party there. The problem is B Cliff will never ever have the essence or produce the memories MnB park has left every visitor with. A house like B Cliff is what we all dreamed of on those cold summer nights sitting around a fire in the middle of the fenced in abandoned tennis courts scratching at mosquito bites guzzling Budweisers.
When I arrived I was greeted at the door by Chris Rooke. I walked in jumped on JB ( a typical greeting) and said hello to Karin. The usual happenings were in motion. Lots of beer, lots of alcohol. Nothing out of the ordinary. I was instructed to barge into Mr. Briggs room which posessed not only MB but Colin (a lifelong friend) hanging out. Good to see them. We all united around the kitchen table while I sat and watched Karin and MB take on Chris and his partner playing a game where dice must be thrown against the wall and fall into a SOLO cup. Nothing too wild. It was this moment I really wished I were down the street at MnB park. I would have preferred braving the cold and sitting around a fire having good times. This hangout just seemed too composed. MnB was unpredictable. Would we have problems with the cops? Would the fire department come and put out our fire and still leave us our alcohol like they sometimes did? Would the owner of the DYS center pull up to the fence in his Escalade and yell at us like he did on occasion? Would there be people walking their dogs in the woods staring at us all in wonder?

After hanging for what seemed like an appropriate amount of time I said my goodbyes. And drove home sober. Not worrying about whether a cop would be creeping around the center of my town. I was older, and my life was anything but sheltered in the big scheme of things, but I had never felt so secure, so bored.

B Cliff will never have sounds of juvenile delinquents echoing through its walls. B Cliff will never be MnB Park, USA.
This is the start of tales from MnB Park.