and Words
Truth is, I thought it mattered
I thought that music mattered
But does it? Bollocks!
Not compared to how people matter
We’ll be singin’
When we’re winnin’
We’ll be singin’
I get knocked down, but I get up again
You’re never gonna keep me down
Lyric excerpts from Musixmatch.
It was early in my career at Microsoft, and I worked on a project in the audio team. I teamed up with a young intern who would be continuing my project; his name was Dan. As we continued to meet in order to hand off the existing project, we got along fabulously. We both had similar wit and complemented each other’s working style. It was the start of an enduring friendship.
While we worked together for many years. We would each eventually move from our respective roles. I switched disciplines and then teams, although I remained with the company for decades. He too moved to different teams and disciplines and companies, though we remained in touch.
I got my first condo a short distance from work. It was the practical thing to do instead of continuing to rent. I didn’t look for very long. It wasn’t fancy, but it was my place. I was single and had modest needs. It would become my home for many years. While we didn’t plan it this way, Dan became my neighbor. I don’t remember quite how we first discovered that fact, but there we were; he moved in to a unit in the next building. We were less than a five minute walk from each other, and thus we hanged out a fair bit.
We lived immediately next to the gym, so we exercised together. The gym closed at 11pm, and we often stayed until closing time. There were a collection of regulars, both members and attendants, and we knew each other by names. We did cardio (treadmill mostly) and then strength training. As we lifted weights on each station, we spotted each other. He inspired me as much as I inspired him. We maintained this pace, at three to four times a week for years; it was our routine.
We gamed, though more accurately he gamed and I kept him company. I watched as he finished many games through many different game consoles. Sometimes the games were silly and cartoonish; others times the games were haunting and frightening. As he ran, jumped, shot, fought, and cast the occasional spell, I was there as his companion. We laughed and celebrated together. I miss those days.
The one noteworthy exception to my gaming with him is Tetris, specifically Tetris DX on the Gameboy. While he would easily defeat me at just about any game we played together, Tetris was my game. To say that his victories were rare would be generous; we would both be shocked when they occurred. He still maintains that he’ll catch up some day, perhaps on another Tetris game in a newer platform. I’d welcome playing with him again, though I’m skeptical that the outcome would be much different.
Occasionally we would drink while we gamed. We didn’t drink to excess, though I’ll admit to the occasional extra drink since I’d only be walking home. Many times we’d simply talk about gaming, exercising, or what was going on at work. Though there was at least one we raised a glass to toast to our late fathers; it was a bittersweet moment.
Dan held one of his birthday parties in Seattle; it was a local bar with many friends. In keeping with the twisted sense of humor that we had with each other, I wore a t-shirt that said, “Some of my best friends are White People.” I knew some of his friends, though most of them were people I had yet to meet. Everyone seemed amused by the shirt, and as a warning, that site is definitely NSFW.
One of our persistent disagreements was about baseball, or more specifically the predisposition to root for the local sports team. He was under the misconception that living in the Seattle area, I should automatically align with the Seattle Mariners and other professional local sports teams. Having been an enthusiast of the Atlanta Braves for many years, I did not have any inclination to change loyalties or even develop the slightest interest in the Mariners… Even if the locals or the television stations insisted that I should be at very least sympathetic to this team due to geography. Why? Do we expect lifelong Boston Red Sox fans to align with the Yankees upon moving to New York City?
It was an ongoing debate that was half-humorous and half-philosophical. One day Dan happened upon some Seattle Mariners decorations and decided that he should decorate my car with it. While I wasn’t going to escalate, I did need to respond proportionately. I proceeded to create a sign that I would put on his car. I printed it on magnetic paper and carefully put it on the passenger door of his car. It had nothing to do with the Atlanta Braves, it was a bit more personal in nature. He drove to work with that sign and only noticed it after he had parked his car. It was perfect.
And that ended the trend of decorating each other’s car. 😁
Years later, this song was released. It was catchy and silly. We heard it everywhere. It was mental fluff that simply made you happy, but there was more than that.
It referenced drinking… A lot of it.
It mentions pissing the night away… Which we figuratively did regularly.
It mentions “Oh, Danny Boy”… Uhm, really?
It makes a plea to “Don’t cry for me, next door neighbor”… Well, not immediately next door, but close enough.
Thus this mind-numbingly catchy tune because synonymous with Dan. My default greeting for him was no longer “hi” or “how are you?” It became… “Pissing the night away?”
And really, how could it not?
While we don’t see each other as frequently, whenever we see each other it’s as if not a moment has passed. In some ways our friendship transcends time. We know that we have each other’s best interest at heart. I know that our friendship will persevere, this allows us to speak to each other bluntly but honestly. We know we can speak up and set healthy boundaries and they will be honored. Isn’t that what we all want from friendships?
And with that, if he should attend my funeral (whenever that may be), he is forbidden to sing a song or recite poetry. Please hold him accountable. 😉
Even now, years later, I’ll still occasionally greet him by asking, “Pissing the night away?”