Topic: Space

Author: Chris Dunn

As I type this, sitting in a spacious house that I share with one special lady and a pair of very fortunate cats, I count myself lucky. I managed to score this space, in one of the currently thriving communities in Cincinnati, through the power of pure inertia. As the torrent of the 90s finally blew to a close, and everyone began to settle in the early 00s, I simply stayed put. One by one, all the other members of the lose affiliation known collectively as The Pit, moved out and on, settled down or drifted away. And then there was just me. Me and all this space, but it wasn’t always this way.

“Norwood?!” I remember Drew asking derisively as soon as he got me on the phone. He did not hold the neighborhood in the highest esteem and wanted to let me know what he thought of my latest housing choice. But, hey! He wasn’t in my situation. Time was tight and procrastinators don’t typically get their first choice. Norwood would do just fine, and if he didn’t like it, he didn’t have to come visit. I honestly can’t recall if he ever did stay at the “The Hotel” as we dubbed it. Just as well, it was small. Too small for guests actually.

I remember when we first looked at it, Kit and I. The Pit was being forcibly sundered. Our current landfolks at Hawaiian Terrace were restructuring to garner more financial support from the State, and we had been dubbed too well-off to remain. You’ve heard of DINKs – Dual Income, No Kids? Well our anagram would’ve been something like TIACHHs – Three Incomes and an Assorted Collection of Hippies and Hangers-on. However, it didn’t matter how they added it up, my income alone was over the cap. Finding another three bedroom townhouse with a fireplace, rec room and laundry room wasn’t feasible either. Half the crew wanted to move north to train as ninjas, and Kit and I had work here in the city, splitting up seemed like the only sensible choice.

Two bedrooms, the ad had clearly stated TWO bedrooms, but it failed to mention that one of those bedrooms was only set off by a sliding, slatted door only installed to up the price of the place. One of us, Kit, would have to share mental space with the common room, but it didn’t seem an insurmountable hurdle, and so many things were right about the space. It was close to both my work and Kit’s, the price was well with our shared range, it was ready now, and the landlords were a couple of LARPers who owned a partial interest in Wanna Play, our local game store. It was only going to be for a year or so… How bad could it be? We’d settle here for now and look for a more permanent solution as time allowed.

Moving in was fun. When I said the place was ready, I wasn’t being completely honest. They still had carpet to install in the main room that was also attached to the larger bedroom. However, since our stuff was being thrown out of Hawaiian Terrace, we had no choice but to pack everything we owned, Kit and I, into the smaller  bedrooms and the kitchen. All my Tetris skills and years watching my father pack 5 people’s stuff into one vacation trunk, were brought to bear, but it worked. Once the carpet was down, everything came exploding out to fill the space, and no one believed it could ever have fit. Will finds away.

Of course once everything came crashing into place, Dennis showed up on the couch. He didn’t want to go north with the Ninjas and had nowhere else to go. Neither Kit nor I had the heart to kick him to the curb, and he didn’t take up much space - giant, spindly thing that he was. So three guys in four rooms. It’s not that much of a stretch. Did I mention the place had a second story porch? Just head through Kit’s bedroom and you could step outside to smoke and listen to the Norwood’s Perpetual Dog Chorus. They’re world renowned. Oh, but only 1 bath mind you, and when I say bath, I mean bath. This place had no shower. The landlord said he was thinking about putting one in, but… you know… It was nice clawfoot tub, but you could forget about dropping in for a quick rinse and running off late to work. It was ten minutes for the water to warm up and another fifteen for the tub to fill. Oh, and make sure everybody who needed to use the facilities did so before you even got started.

Now, at this point you’re probably saying, “Gee, that sounds pretty tight.” But I’m not through, by a long shot. You see, there’s the simple fact that I am pretty awesome, and I run some of the best campaigns you’re going to find this side of gamedom. Though we had parted ways and over half the crew had settled in Fairfield, there were still games to be played. Back in those days, we gamed every chance we could get and spent our remaining free hours getting high and watching MST3K. So, rather than drive down and then home stoned each night, it made more sense to stay over. Tony, Tonya, Misty and Bobby would all pile in their van and drive to Cincinnati and stay the weekend. Saturday & Sunday at first, then they realized Tony had no work to do on Fridays, so we made them 3-day weekends. Then Monday got absorbed somehow. Before long they were all hanging out about 5 days per week on average.

Where did they all sleep? I really have no idea. Floors and couches... Kit had a large bed. It was the bathroom situation that was the worst! Then there was waking up in the middle of the night and having to climb over and around a minefield of splayed limbs on your way to take a piss… People hanging out talking loudly in the next room when you had to work in the morning… The pressure of everyone else having a good time, when you were had a work deadline and were just trying to do the responsible thing… But I never once told them, not to come. I never once tried to shoo them on their way early.

Seven people in what was essentially a large 1 bedroom apartment. It’s a good thing we were like family. I didn’t regret a minute of it, mind you. Sure it was tight, but I was glad to have the old Pit Crew back together. I was certain we were going to get kicked out at any minute for violating the lease, but all we ever heard from the landlords was newlywed screaming fits. In fact, when my old childhood home opened up as available, and I went to tell our landlord we would be moving on, he informed me they were splitting up. We haggled a bit, and he agreed to give back 50% of our deposit, even though we were technically breaking the lease. He never sent the money, but considering the wear we put on that place in five short months, he deserved it.