Memory Science Part 4: The Analysis - AKA Spring Break '91 Wooohooo!

This is the conclusion to our four part memory experiment series. If you haven’t already, you should read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. I don’t really remember why -  I just have a sticky note here that says I should mention that.  

In summary, we are testing a memory theory that Pat heard on the radio that stated the more you recall a memory the more you are apt to alter said memory. Each of us wrote up a synopsis of a spring break trip we took our freshman year in college to see if we have any conflicting recollections.

In this post we will discuss the results of our experiment to see what we have discovered and learned about how our memories function. And more importantly, who won.

Christian: First off, there is no way Chris Isaak’s ‘Wicked Game” or Queensryche’s “Silent Lucidity” were on any mix tape of mine. Not then, not now, not ever. I’m appalled that you are even suggesting that they may have been on one my tapes. Your memory is obviously severely deranged.

Pat:  I think if you were to check with one of our two car-mates (or maybe both of them) they would have a very vivid memory of bringing those two songs along. And c’mon man, they may not hold up so well today, but those songs were good for their time. The video that accompanied that Chris Isaak song? WICKED sexy!

So that was an interesting experiment. Nothing too conflicting, it appears. More complimentary than anything I think. It’s funny...kind of makes me think you need at least two people to accurately remember something you’ve experienced. Which, of course, means trouble if you’re a loner. Looks like their lives are simply going to be re-created every time they try to remember something.

Still, complimentary as they were, I have this dreadful feeling we’ve forgotten something of vital importance. Like did we see Nicholas Cage somewhere in there somewhere? Or am I just confusing my Vegas memories with my Nicholas-Cage-IN-Vegas-Movies memories?

Christian:  No, I’m pretty sure we didn’t see Nicholas Cage during the trip. I would have remembered that. But I think the results of this experiment of ours shows that your memory theory is indeed shit-crap. Like you, I didn’t see any major conflicts between our recollections either. If anything, it just shows that each individual tends to remember different events more than others. Although to be fair, I just barely skimmed yours while playing Mario Kart.

(*few minutes go by*)

OK, I decided to go back and really read yours this time and I do believe I found a couple statements that were incorrect with regards to being factual. First, in your comparisons of our skiing abilities; I was a very good skier back then so I do believe I was like the blonde guys from Hot Dog. However you are correct that you were more like the guys from Better Off Dead. Second, when we first arrived at Reno we stayed at some random motel the first night, as I described in my synopsis, and not at Circus Circus. It’s like you weren’t even on this trip.

I do find it interesting that neither of us remember anything about the trip back. We must have stopped and stayed somewhere on the way back. I know for sure we didn’t make the whole trip from Vegas to Eugene in one day. But I’m guessing Frodo and Sam don’t remember the trip back from Mordor too much either. It was probably just a lot of the two of them talking about how boring it’s going to be getting back to their normal lives doing all that gardening. Or how they wished they had gotten more souvenirs from the Mount Doom gift shop.        

It’s funny how even with combining both of our memories of this epic trip, we still can’t recall everything. Not funny ha ha but funny oh dear god we’re old.   

Pat:  Yeah, I have absolutely NO memory of that other hotel. So I think that means I have remembered our trip too much, to the point where I am starting to un-remember it, or dis-remember it, or dismember it...

So science triumphs yet again!

And I recall that Lane Meyer was a pretty good skier (down the hill on one ski?), so THANK YOU for the compliment, sir! A tip of my hat right back at you!

Christian: I think you might be dis-remembering the memory theory we were testing. It was that each time you remember something you alter it. I’m not seeing any alterations in our stories, just parts missing. I have told that cop pulling me over story many many times and it is just as accurate now as it was when it happened.  

Perhaps we haven’t recalled this spring break trip enough for the theory to kick in. Maybe if I start telling that cop story even more, over and over, it will eventually morph into me fighting the cop, using nothing but my fists and the purple velvet cape I was wearing.

And as I turned the officer’s car over onto it’s roof and jumped on top of it, I pointed down to him with my sword and said “From the power within me, that’s the last time you ever embezzel tax payer’s money from those orphans that were helping build that kitten hospital that they raised all that money for that you also embezzled.”  

Then lightning struck and thunder echoed off the valley walls, as I shouted  “YOU SHALL BE BANISHED!”  

As I was carried off on that chariot, and the crowd cheered, I told myself, I want to remember this moment forever.

Memory Science Part 3: AKA Spring Break '91 Wooohooo! (Pat's Version)

This is part three of PCPPP’s Science Fortnight, where we are testing the theory that the more you recall a memory the more likely you are to alter said memory. Pat and I have agreed to recall a spring break road trip we took our freshman year in college to see if we have any conflicting memories. If so, this may be evidence that this theory is indeed valid. In Part 1, we discuss the theory. Part 2 contains my recollection of the trip. In this post Pat will be recalling his version of the trip. In the final installment, which will be posted later this week, we will analyze our findings. Without further ado, Pat’s version.

The Preparation
My memory begins with “Song 11” (officially known as the untitled song) from the R.E.M. album Green. I had just finished my last final on a Friday in March-- it felt like I was the last person on campus to have to take a final-- and I was walking back to the dorm when the song popped on my Walkman™. The day had a supremely sweet spring feel to it (mildly warm, flowery scent...like one of those soft-tissue commercials) and I smiled and glided down the street like Julie Andrews as she descends the green hillside of Austria singing to her heart’s content.

I made it back to my dorm room and made sure I was prepared for the next day-- skis and ski clothes packed, a sensible number of socks and underwear, some pants and shirts, and the store of food from Costco™ that my parents had taken me to get the day before. Good road trip food-- a tray of muffins, a bag of Gardetto’s™ Snack Mix, a case of mineral water. Then I checked to see that the three mix tapes I made were in order. Two ninety minute mixes and one sixty minute. TDK tapes, I believe.  I think the first one-- “Driving Toons” [sic]-- started off with “Should I Stay or Should I Go”. Still have those tapes somewhere in my basement. I remember being nervous about them because you had said a few weeks earlier, after I had started crafting mine, that you were making a mix as well, and that it was going to have a killer surprise song at the end. I think it ended up being “In the Summertime” by Mungo Jerry. Good song. It was spring, though...you remember that part, right? Anyway, I was nervous because we were taking your car, thus making you the Alpha Male, and I was worried that my tapes might be seen as a threat to your dominance. And then I was worried that you might not play mine, feeling as they were not worthy, but I knew that they were ass-kicking mixes. Ah, the agony!

Anyway...all checked out, and I anxiously awaited the four of us-- you, me, Zan and Melissa-- getting together and leaving the next morning. Can’t remember what I did that night...I think my roommate was already gone somewhere and I don’t think I did anything worth remembering, but who knows. Did we get together to watch “L.A. Law” or “Thirtysomething”?  I remember those two being shows we watched in your dorm room, as you were one of the only people I knew who had a TV.

Alright...so that’s it for the kickoff to the memory-fest. We haven’t actually started the trip yet, but the stage has been set.  

Day 1

I guess it must have been a Saturday, but that’s just logic kicking in...nothing about the actual day comes back to mind. I think we left in the morning, and aside from a bit of geeky mix-tape fascination (on our part, that is. I remember distinctly feeling as though Melissa and Zan were seriously unimpressed with our masterpieces) and a few necessary rest-stop stops-- don’t forget that case of mineral water--my next memory involves stopping at a café in Shasta City where I got a bowl of chili and fries. I don’t remember what you ate. Sorry.

Prior to the chili, I remember we laughed a bit at the town of Weed. Not at the actual town, but at the name. I think that, as well as we knew each other, there was some innate notion in each of us that, being college students-- at the University of Ganja--we were obliged to give some bonehead chuckle at a town with such a drug-referenced name. If we didn’t, we might lose our cred.

Anyway...we turned onto state route 89 and made our way toward Reno. I remember two things about that stretch, but I’m not sure about the order they appear. This first was a podunk general store the name of which I absolutely fell in love with-- the Hat Creek Mah-Coo-Atche General Store. I think I was tempted to get out of the Subaru, give up my mixed European heritage and become a small town Indian. Seemed cool somehow. The second was a snowstorm that caught us off-guard. Lots of snow. Alarming amounts of snow. I remember that largely because I think it’s the first time I seriously contemplated my own death. I dug your car, as it was much cooler than the car I didn’t have,  but I was not convinced that it would spare my life in the case of a spin-out. And I had the most vivid awareness that of all the ways to go, I was not ready to have mine be in a snowstorm on some backwoods California state route. Don’t get me wrong. If you and I were driving today, I’d be perfectly happy to go down in flames with you. I’m more content that way. I just wasn’t back then.

So...we made it through, had effectively run through all of the mix-tapes (the thought did occur to me, as I pondered the next six days of our trip and the many more miles we had to travel, “Well...what are we going to listen to now?”), and ended up in Reno, where I believe my dad had booked us a room at the fine establishment of Circus Circus. Did we try to sneak into the casino to blow or double our spring tuition? Did we play video games and skee-ball in efforts to win tickets we could trade in for cheap stuffed animals or tongue-staining candy? Did we head straight to the buffet to gorge on low-grade meats and slightly congealed sauces? I’m not sure...help fill in the blanks, man.

Day 2, and 3, and 4... (apparently my memory is too detailed, so here is the abridged version)

Alright, so we’re in Reno. I think we walked around the town...a lot. We were four underage and timid college kids stuck in a cheap-and-corny hotel with no way to get out of town due to car troubles--what was it that happened to your car and how did we (you?) pay for it? There were a few times we snuck in to play slots, and I remember playing some random drinking games in our hotel room, getting kinda’ sloppy drunk on whatever cheap booze we could get our hands on (was Melissa the one brave enough to enter the mini-mart and buy for us?) and then passing out. Finally, three days into our adventure, we made it to Squaw Valley for a killer day of skiing. At the beginning of the day, I remember thinking we were going to be like the cool blonde guys (except for our hair) from Hot Dog, but by the end of the day I feared we more closely resembled Lane and Charles from Better Off Dead. Oh well...it was fun, and we finally got to use our skis. Not sure what Zan and Melissa did other than drop us off and pick us up. Maybe they re-enacted one of those steamy hot tub scenes that seemed to be required of any 80s ski movie.

Next day we packed up and headed to Vegas. Ever since that trip, I have imagined the road to hell looking a lot like the highway from Reno to Las Vegas. I vaguely remember a lake, a few towns, a cop and a passing lane. I distinctly remember, though, passing by the nuclear weapon test area somewhere near Tonopah, and then promptly freaking out because it was snowing and I’d seen enough of The Day After to know that we were as good as dead. Mistaking the far-off saguaro cacti for wandering irradiated nomads didn’t help. Nuclear snow scared the shit out of me.

Vegas is a bit of a haze, probably for the better. We pulled in towards evening, I think, with Chris Isaak’s ‘Wicked Game” and Queensryche’s “Silent Lucidity” carrying us into town (not my mix tapes, by the way...not sure how those ditties slipped in there). We stayed at Erin’s dorm, met her new boyfriend Greg, walked around the strip a bit, checking out the fountain at the Mirage and staring in amazement at the historical re-enaction taking pace inside the Excalibur. UNLV’s basketball team was the shit back then and I walked through the campus looking for really tall guys. We watched a movie or three I think, and slept in really uncomfortable quarters. There was a mall in there somewhere. I bought something there and took it back with me. I think it was a plant that lived on air.

Oddly, I don’t remember anything about the trip back up, except that when we reached the Oregon border, the color green seemed to scream out at me. I think that was when I first realized that the rest of the world exists in various hues of brown, and that I never wanted to leave the lush comfort of my home state. Were there more of us in the car than on the way down? Did we stop somewhere on the way up to break the trip into two days? Ashland? Were we sick of each other by then? Had we eaten all of the Costco™ muffins and drank all of the mineral water?

That was a good trip.

Memory Science Part 2: AKA Spring Break '91 Wooohooo! (Christian's Version)

This is part two of PCPPP’s Science Fortnight, where we are testing the theory that the more you recall a memory the more likely you are to alter said memory. Part one can be found Here. The skinny is that Pat and I have agreed to recall a spring break road trip we took our freshman year in college to see if we have any conflicting memories. If so, this may be evidence that this theory is indeed valid. In this installment, I will recall my version of the trip. Next week we will post Pat’s version and our conclusions. What an exciting time to be alive!

Ah, spring break freshman year of college. Back in the day when invading Iraq was a novel and fresh idea. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t have the greatest memory but I’ll do my best to recall what I can. Here we go.

The lead of my yellow Sanford American HB #2 pencil broke as I was finishing the last problem on my Physics 252 final, inside room 203 of Willamette Hall. As I pulled out my spare red Dixon 2H #4, I noticed Professor Wilkes was reading a 2nd addition of “The Russia House” by John Le Carre. He adjusted his blue and black pin striped tie as he turned the page of his battered paperback, which wore obvious signs of multiple readings and much water damage. I finished off calculating the distance a 4.8 kg block slides up a 30° incline with 118 J of kinetic energy with a coefficient of friction of 0.30, and bolted out the silver rustic doors with venetian bronze handles, of Willamette Hall. The slight drizzle, with 77% humidity, didn’t damper my excitement as I knew we would be leaving for our spring break trip the next day.

The rest of the trip is more of a blur. I do remember that Pat and I had decided to drive to Reno for a week long ski vacation to get away from the constant toga parties, panty-raiding, and prank pulling on that evil Dean. Meanwhile our two friends Melissa and Zan were trying to plan a trip to Las Vegas to visit another mutual friend of ours, Erin. To protect their identities we’ll change Melissa’s name to Margery and we’ll change Zan’s gender to male and call her Stephon. We’ll change Erin to being a parakeet and change her name to Mr. Crackers. Pat’s name will be Pierre Lefebufe. Wait... we don’t need to change Pat’s name. So I guess we’ll just call him Pat.

So anyways, Melissa and Zan were trying to plan a trip to Vegas to visit Erin. I came up with the brilliant idea of combining the two, and I remember that Pat, Melissa, Zan, and Mr. Crackers were all in agreement that I continued to demonstrate unsurpassed intellect and impeccable fashion sense.      

The plan was to spend a few days in Reno, ski, and then head to Las Vegas. We headed south in my jet-fighter blue Subaru action wagon (the official color was baby blue but I had convinced everyone the color was called jet-fighter blue. I also added the “action” to the model). On the way there the action wagon started to show signs that something was amiss, and as we pulled into our hotel parking lot, after a 10+ hour drive, it literally died on us coasting into a parking spot. Phew! We were staying at some random hotel the first night but were changing locations the next night to the Circus Circus Hotel and Casino for the remainder of our stay in Reno.  

The next morning we called for a tow truck to tow us to the nearest mechanic. The Reno Gods were looking out for us that day because the closest mechanic happen to be a 76 Station/Garage directly across the street from Circus Circus (the 76 Station isn’t there anymore if you happen to be looking for it while reading this). The four of us packed ourselves into the front seat of the tow truck and were chauffeured like rock stars over to the 76 Station. We then walked across the street dragging our luggage to the hotel. Later that day the Reno Gods stopped looking out for us (stupid Reno Gods!) as we found out the car was going to be in the shop for a couple of days which meant less days for skiing. In fact it left just one day for skiing.  

In the meantime, we piddled around Reno and enjoyed its spoils which included a sign stating that Reno was some kind of big small city and more pawn shops than anyone could humanly imagine. Circus Circus itself had all the class and glamor of an Arby’s but we made the most of it. I recall one night we played some drinking game called One Up or One Down or something like that. The whole goal of the game was to figure out the rules of the game so it was rather fun. I ended up drinking a lot because I did very poorly at it (or did I?). I don’t remember how we got the alcohol since we were all under age at the time, so I’m assuming we transported it there from Oregon, Smokey and the Bandit style.

After the car was fixed we did our one day of skiing up at Squaw Valley. The four of us drove up to the mountain (On the drive up we passed some guy that was driving while drinking a can of Budweiser. How shameful. Really, a Budweiser?) but only Pat and I skied. I remember that everyone up on the mountain seemed very impressed with my alpine skills and unsurpassed intellect. I have no idea what Zan and Melissa did during that day but they did pick us up afterwards which must have been a huge amount of excitement for them.

Then it was onto phase two of the vacation: Destination Vegas.  On the long drive there, we were in the middle of one of those Nevada driving stretches where the road remains entirely straight for as far as you can see for about 10 to 14 hours. I had just woken up from napping to find myself driving the car. Now that I was feeling refreshed, I really started to enjoy being out on the open road, until....  

I eventually came up on some slow traffic due to some obviously deranged lunatic driving 35 in a 55 mph zone. Around this time I had also noticed that there was a police car or what I call a “smokey”, a couple of cars behind us. But since I wasn’t currently being framed for a crime I didn’t commit, I thought nothing of it. One by one the cars in front of me passed this certifiable menace of a dawdling driver. It was now my turn. I waited for the oncoming lane to clear and executed an absolutely perfect pass, with proper blinker usage and all. Seconds later the cop car was behind us with lights flashing. He couldn’t be pulling me over to compliment me on my exquisite passing skills and unsurpassed intellect could he?  No.

“Hello Mr. Officer”, I said with as much fake cheer as I could muster.

“You’re lucky I’m not pulling your mangled bodies out of some burning wreckage,”  he said.  

Wow, these Nevada state police troopers have an odd sense of humor, I thought. Turns out they don’t. He was completely serious and quite the ass. Apparently, while I was passing that mentally unbalanced lethargic driver, I drove past a dirt farm road that was perpendicular to the highway. Turns out the police officer considered this an “intersection” even though there wasn’t any stop signs or any signs at all for that matter. And it’s illegal to pass someone while going through an “intersection”, as I had just learned (in Nevada the word intersection must be one of those words that have different meanings for different people, like homage, chippy or homonym).

We eventually did make it to Las Vegas without suffering any fiery deaths. Erin was attending UNLV so we were able to stay in the dorms with her. Melissa and Zan were in her room while Pat and I got to stay in the room across the hall which belonged to a couple of Erin’s friends who were just heading out of town for their spring break. I remember Erin’s friends being very impressed with my story telling capabilities and unsurpassed intellect.   

We spent our time in Vegas touring UNLV’s campus and visiting all the cool casinos, which I remember hardly any of. But for some reason I do have a very vivid memory of watching the movie “Quick Change” starring Bill Murray, Geena Davis, and Randy Quaid, in the lounge area of Erin’s dorm, during one afternoon. So as you can see, it was a very wild time in Vegas.