I lived in Fort Sanders while pretending to attend college at the University of Tennessee in my early twenties. One house I lived in was on the corner of 11th and Laurel. It is no longer there, but at the time it was a 3 story house converted into apartments, mine being the attic. It had sloped ceilings and a claw foot tub and you could climb out on the roof and yell obscenities at passer-bys with relative anonymity. My downstairs neighbor was none other than Rus Harper of Teenage Love and Neowizard fame, so needless to stay there were occasionally very interesting gatherings. On Saturdays the Big Orange wave of Humanity came crushing down on the Fort and our land/slumlord had a very bad habit of selling off our yard as a large parking lot. We were left to find parking the night before and hope our cars were not towed or carried away by gangs of hooligans.
Anywho, we had us a fine party this particular home game Saturday and were whooping it up on the front porch, hollering rather inappropriate things to pedestrians and their wives and their (sorry)children. After a threat of violence or two the party logically migrated upstairs to the attic and out onto the roof. I was always a little scared to go out there but braved it anyway. We looked down upon the sea of cars littering our normal hang out area and decided they were not nearly orange enough. So. After a short lived and half-hearted look around, we happened upon the orangest thing we could find: American Cheese. Really cheap American cheese-like food product to be precise, which flies remarkably well and makes a lovely splat when meeting a windshield with all the force the three story cheese free fall could muster. After the supply of cheese bombs was used up, we decided the best thing to do would be to leave for the day and seek comfort in the arms of friends outside of the upcoming impact zone of the horrors of baked on “cheese”.
Here are some posters by the way