Saturday night was the last party ever at 1818. The last dance if you will. Some of you are probably asking yourselves (which I think is just Ayesha at this point so this sentence and this post is basically irrelevant), what the fuck is 1818? So as not to keep you in suspense (note that I didn't even sneak another sentence in, but I did sneak in this ellipses), 1818 refers to 1818 Camden Ave., Apartment # 301 (not to be confused with gayteen eighteen located in San Diego, which is a story for another post). 1818 was the on again off again home of Candy and John for over 12 years. That's right, Candy lived in 1818 since the late 1990s. John used it as his west coast abode back when he was bicoastal but moved there permanently in 2003 (some say he ran out of money, others that he ran out of energy and still others that he ran out of excuses [to Candy] but those are the haters, I think he did it for the weather, and Candy). And there is about a 75% chance that someone you know has probably lived at 1818. This is because at some point basically every one of Candy and John's friends has done a stint at 1818 (we have secret tattoos, you don't want to know where John's is). In fact if you haven't lived at 1818 then you probably can't be friends with Candy or John (and since it is no more, you never will be).

Like the age of man compared to the dawn of the cosmos, my story is just a small part of 1818. For me it began in the spring of 2002. I was an aimless third year law student about to graduate from USC. I was still reeling from the break up of a long term relationship which ended before school began and spent most of the year getting drunk amongst my peers at various bars, taking my shirt off (while inside said bars) and kicking stuff (sometimes inside and sometimes outside of said bars). A young girl by the name of Ayesha took notice of this behavior and was intrigued. Besides my perfectly coiffed hair which she marveled at during class, she wanted to know more. As she lived at 1818 (having moved there during her third year of law school) she would confide in Candy and Deb about her secret (or not so secret depending on whom you talk to) crush on yours truly. She was also somehow aware that I was an avid tennis player. Thus, after several months of pining, she devised an elaborate subterfuge. She determined that if she convinced me to teach her how to play tennis, I would have to spend time with her. She set her trap one spring day in antitrust class. After class ended she walked up to my chair and commented on my fine hair and then inquired as to my apparently legendary tennis skills. She also made mention of her desire to learn to play the game (note that Candy does a wonderful impression of Ayesha speaking to me that day). I, being a reasonable individual with average tennis ability and lower than average ability to spot flirtatious behavior, agreed to teach her.

Several days later I found myself at 1818 for the first time. I remember thinking how spacious it was with its many balconies, large living room, separate dining room and three separate bedrooms. There was even a nook for an office. Never before had I seen an apartment so large. And since it was on the top floor it had high ceilings and plenty of light. It easily accommodated Candy, Ayesha and Isaac and Deb (they shared the third bedroom). As the months progressed (with no tennis lessons mind you) I spent more and more time at 1818. I visited Ayesha, attended parties thrown by Candy and Ayesha and over the summer studied for the bar there. Those times when I stayed late and did not want to drive (due to exhaustion or inebriation, mostly inebriation) I would sleep on one of the many couches strewn about the living room (I was a gentleman). Then at some point I started staying in Ayesha's bedroom. And then I went back to sleeping on the couch (I was a little confused).

I became a de facto member of 1818 in early 2003. My roommate in Santa Monica had moved out and I needed to find a new roommate or apartment. My genius idea was to live at my parents beach house in Laguna Beach and commute to downtown Los Angeles. This lasted about two weeks. In short order I brought most of my clothes to 1818 and moved in. I was charged a modest rent of $100 a month by Candy (but collected by Ayesha). It is a testament to the camaraderie engendered by 1818 as there were no real squabbles (at least while I was there) even with five people living in one space, four of them living together as couples to boot (Candy did get mad one time when Ayesha and I failed to clean up the living room after a night of partying; she cleaned it up herself, yelled at us and cried and we never crossed the Fist again). Sometimes when John would visit from New York there were three couples under one roof all living in dirty hippie commune harmony (except that three of us were lawyers, one was a day trader/investment manager, one was a therapist and one was a location scout, so more like a yuppie commune).

I went back to school in the fall of 2003 in New York City and moved out of 1818 for the school year. Ayesha remained in Los Angeles during that time, continuing to live at 1818. The week I moved out, John moved in. I believe this is when the no shoes policy began to be strictly enforced. All shoes were to be deposited in the hallway or very near the entrance just inside 1818. I noticed that even the most macho of men were humbled when forced to remove their shoes thereby revealing their dirty feet or holed socks. Also, began a new era of hyper cleanliness. It is postulated that John vacuumed at least every day. Glasses would disappear into the dishwasher and bottles and cans into the trash can moments after a beverage was consumed. I think he had a holster for windex and 409 bottles since things seemed be wiped down continuously. This also might have been when the roof rats were discovered. Rats, living on the roof! Late at night they would scratch and scuttle about eating fallen fruit and even the asphalt lining of the roof itself. As I visited about once every other month and during vacations while in school I was treated to their nocturnal bacchanalias several times.

I was able to log a few more months in 1818 in the summer of 2004 after returning from school. Jobless, I spent the days with John, who taught me and Chris how to golf at the driving range, reading books and generally doing nothing. Deb and Isaac had moved out so it was just me, Ayesha, Candy and John. Sadly, Ayesha and I moved out in August 2004 when I got a new job in San Diego. This was the first time I believe that Candy and John lived alone at 1818. When we returned to Los Angeles in 2006 we got our own apartment. Part of me secretly wished that we could move back in to 1818 to relive those halcyon days.

There is much to the story of 1818 which was before my time. Isaac, Deb, Anand, Chris C., the Major and others lived there too. If Candy were to read this I am sure there are many tales she could contribute which would dwarf this account. As for me I will remember the Christmas parties, New Year's eve's parties, the random nights when we intended to leave but didn't, smoking on the balcony until the wee hours of the morning, our ill fated poker nights, listening to the roof rats, counting the smoking deaths for the year, ashing in the succulents, healing hands, the dulcet sound of the wine fridge and as the place where I fell in love.

That last night, we danced, wore our shoes inside (the highlight of the night) poured beer on the carpet and even smoked and ashed our cigarettes inside. Many of the 1818 faithful returned to celebrate its passing and we got about as drunk and twisted in the place as we ever did in our twenties. It was a fitting end to say the least.

Of course, 1818 was just a place. A mid 90's apartment in a random building in west Los Angeles with termites and roof rats. One of hundreds of the same design in this city I am sure. The memories may be connected with the place but clearly they are what they are because of the people. And that isn't dead, it's at the new "1818", in Brentwood. Make sure to remove your shoes when you come over.