I was a commuter student when I was at college; that is, I lived at home on the south end of the Salt Lake Valley and drove back and forth to the University of Utah every day, a 50-mile round trip, for five years. I had my reasons for doing it that way at the time, but in retrospect, it wasn’t the greatest idea I’ve ever had. I certainly wouldn’t do it again, if I could live those years over. I spent way too much time on the road, and I missed out on too many of the social aspects of college life.
Even so, I do have some memories of those years that don’t involve driving or classrooms. My class schedules often had lengthy periods of free time built into any particular day, especially during my freshman year, and I managed to explore the campus pretty thoroughly during those gaps.
One of my favorite spots was a sort of lounge in the student union, a section of the main dining area that was elevated a bit above the rest of the room, and which boasted a big-screen TV, one of the old-fashioned rear-projection models that were about the size of a bank vault. Nine times out of 10, it was tuned to MTV… and this was back when MTV was still playing actual music videos instead of The Real World or whatever the hell they run nowadays. I spent a lot of time in that lounge… studying, watching girls, meeting friends, vegging out. That was the place where I developed a taste for coffee and bagels with cream cheese.
There are a handful of videos I very clearly remember watching on that massive old dinosaur of a television, songs that instantly remind me of what it felt like to be 18 and filled with vinegar and romantic notions. The soundtrack of my late teens, and the last few moments of my wide-eyed innocence. Here’s one of them…

Slaughter-Fly To The Angels
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Yeah, I know… hair metal. It’s supposedly the nadir of western civilization, mind-numbingly stupid and terminally uncool. Whatever. I’d still rather listen to this stuff than all those mopey guys from Seattle who drove a stake through the heart of real rock and roll. And this particular video includes a gorgeous old airplane and automobile, which is probably the reason why it’s stuck in my head all these years. I have no idea what kind of car that is, but I think the plane is a Lockheed similar to the one Amelia Earhart was flying on her final expedition.
Watching this again after all these years, I’m struck by how damn young the lead singer looks. I remember thinking back in the day that all those guys in the rock bands were so much older than I was… they were adults out there doing grown-up stuff, and I was just a stupid, punk kid. Or so it seemed then. I now realize that a lot of them weren’t much older than I was, and they all look like stupid punk kids to me now. Even the ones with enviable hair.
Incidentally, the leader singer of this particular band of punk kids, Mark Slaughter, has done some interesting things in the years since “Fly to the Angels.” He’s now a voice-over artist who worked on Animaniacs, among other things. That same series also employed Jess Harnell, who’s currently singing his heart out for the awesome (and very hair-metal-ish) Rock Sugar, which I wrote about a couple weeks ago. The entertainment industry is very small sometimes.
And I’m just babbling, killing time here at the office until Mr. Slate pulls the tailfeathers on that little dinosaur-bird. I think I’m going to get out of here… enjoy the music, folks. And if I don’t manage to blog again for a couple days, enjoy the weekend, too. Savor the few minutes of real life you can manage to snatch before The Man drags you back into whatever veal pens you’re locked in during the week…