Currently Residing In the "Where Are They Now?" File

If anyone asks you, "Whatever happened to that band Quiet Riot?" you can tell them "They're stuck in Mike N's head."

Let me explain. Autumn has settled in quite quickly here in Minnesota, and we have had lows in the 40s (I think) and highs in the 60s. It is great weather. I truly believe this weather stimulates the adreneline gland. People are at their happiest, liveliest, and most alert when the weather is like this, even when I was growing up in Texas.

But unfortunately for me (or fortunately, depending on how much you like Quiet Riot's hit/cover of "Cum on Feel the Noize"), this weather brings specific memories back. In sixth grade I went to the high school football games with my friend from up the block. To get us pumped enough to face the prospect of talking to girls for the next three hours at the football game, we'd listen to some tapes.

As an aside, what this really meant was I ended up going to the game and watched my friend talk to girls for three hours. Meanwhile I sat there quietly and awkwardly. I was completely lost in terms of knowing how to act cool, as up to that point, my only models of "cool" were Snoopy (Joe Cool) and Fonzie. So I bored quickly of watching girls dote on my friend, and ended up being the only kid in the stands who was actually watching the game. Woe is me.

But back to the music. My friend tolerated my pre-game selection of "Tom Sawyer" by Rush and grew to like KISS' "Detroit Rock City." But what really got him fired up (and me too, I must admit) was to crank up "Cum On Feel the Noize." That was the last song we'd listen to before one of our mom's drove us to the game.

So we must have had a particuarly cold fall that year, because now whenever the weather hits 60 degrees, I feel like I am 12 years-old again, meaning I'm even bonier and even more gangly than I am now. I have wavy shoulder length hair, making strangers wonder if I am an awkward pre-pubescent boy or a really ugly girl. I am in my friend's bedroom, and that godawful song "Cum On the Feel the Noize" is blaring out of his boombox. I am wearing my sister's hand-me-down concert tee from The Who's "It's Hard" tour. I am the only person in south Texas who thinks this is a cool t-shirt.

I can't say these are bad memories. But they're not fond memories, either. I wouldn't mind having to relive them as much as I do, except for one thing: For as long as I live in Minnesota, "Cum On Feel the Noize" will pretty much be stuck in my head 24/7 from mid-Septemeber to late November.