Jack's Basement
Chris Lloyd
Description of a place essay
February 6, 14 Collectively, I spent about fifty percent of my summer, and most of my weekends, in my friend Jack’s basement, which we have come to call “Der Untergrund”. To the untrained eye, Der Untergrund is grimy and revolting; however, it has become my favorite place to be. The second I cross the threshold into the Untergrund, all my tensions are lifted, and I feel totally relaxed. My concerns suddenly feel petty and my fears insignificant. His basement is really the only place where I can feel completely peaceful. The first time I entered Der Untergrund was sometime last winter. A group of friends was meeting at his house before going to a girl’s birthday party. I was barely acquainted with Jack and the German exchange student who was staying at his house, so at first I was uncomfortable. But the longer I stayed, the more I started to like it there. There was just an incredible energy to the room; the room just seemed to have an air of acceptance. I am generally a very self-conscious, anxious person. But in Jack’s basement I felt comfortable — like I belonged.
It was a messy room to say the least; in fact, it was a pigsty. The inhabitants of the room were clearly male, as both clean and dirty laundries were strewn across the floor and furniture. The “smell” test was clearly used to decide the difference from a clean and dirty garment. The room had an array of lacrosse and hockey gear on the floor, two couches and three beds, and two TVs. The dressers and floor were decorated with fascinating objects, such as a small baby shark in a jar of preservatives, and a blowtorch. These toys allowed for a lot of stimulation. Everyone was up and doing something, the room was loud, busy, and fun. At some point that night we did make it to the party but we ruined it with our high school shenanigans in the first few minutes we were there. So because none of us had a car or any place to go, we all walked
Description of a place essay
February 6, 14 Collectively, I spent about fifty percent of my summer, and most of my weekends, in my friend Jack’s basement, which we have come to call “Der Untergrund”. To the untrained eye, Der Untergrund is grimy and revolting; however, it has become my favorite place to be. The second I cross the threshold into the Untergrund, all my tensions are lifted, and I feel totally relaxed. My concerns suddenly feel petty and my fears insignificant. His basement is really the only place where I can feel completely peaceful. The first time I entered Der Untergrund was sometime last winter. A group of friends was meeting at his house before going to a girl’s birthday party. I was barely acquainted with Jack and the German exchange student who was staying at his house, so at first I was uncomfortable. But the longer I stayed, the more I started to like it there. There was just an incredible energy to the room; the room just seemed to have an air of acceptance. I am generally a very self-conscious, anxious person. But in Jack’s basement I felt comfortable — like I belonged.
It was a messy room to say the least; in fact, it was a pigsty. The inhabitants of the room were clearly male, as both clean and dirty laundries were strewn across the floor and furniture. The “smell” test was clearly used to decide the difference from a clean and dirty garment. The room had an array of lacrosse and hockey gear on the floor, two couches and three beds, and two TVs. The dressers and floor were decorated with fascinating objects, such as a small baby shark in a jar of preservatives, and a blowtorch. These toys allowed for a lot of stimulation. Everyone was up and doing something, the room was loud, busy, and fun. At some point that night we did make it to the party but we ruined it with our high school shenanigans in the first few minutes we were there. So because none of us had a car or any place to go, we all walked