Saturday mornings were for soccer. Saturday afternoons belonged to Spring Lounge.

Miller High Life cans stacked into towers. A shark on the wall. Someone's phone charging from an outlet in the ceiling, hanging like a chandelier.

We'd replay the game, watch the street, and spend six hours deciding what to do that night. Then go home, change, and come back out.

I don't see most of those guys anymore.

Spring Lounge is still there.