The smell of corn dogs and funnel cakes coated the air and Bob Seger’s “Main Street” played on the staticky speakers when Jake spotted me standing in line for the Tilt-a-Whirl. He wore a purple button-down and jeans. And that smile. Always that smile.
That memory about a junior college crush led me down a rabbit hole of journal entries and early 1990s music. Back then “big-hat” country played on all of our stereos, and Garth Brooks was its king. Listening to him, 20-year-old me swore the connections I made then would last forever.
I scoured online stores for his songs, but apparently he doesn’t do digital. While out grocery shopping at my local superstore, I found The Ultimate Hits, a compilation CD that contained my favorites, ripped it to my laptop then added it to my phone. And I was transported to the motel-turned-dorm that my athlete friends and I lived in freshman year. His voice provided the soundtrack to my first “buzz,” my first make-out sessions, my first crushing loss. (more…)