
It is a sad thing I have to think about it, trace back and reflect, but Royskopp was a romantic experience for me in college. This was approximately seven years ago. I can clearly recall the time when I went to my first "rave," whatever that means. My friend Joe had coerced me to go, with a broken ankle, into a bus with, of course, some number, probably between useless "1" and and another useless number, somewhat greater than "1," giving us little confidence, not knowing how we would get home as naive and innocent freshman in a [...]