Wednesday, June 17, marked a sad day in the night life of Marshall students and Huntington. It was closing night of Drop Shop along Fourth Avenue three blocks from campus ­ my home away from home for most of my college years. I think it's fair to say most students who visited a bar while at Marshall, visited Drop Shop. Where else in town could you see Type O Negative one night and dance to '80s music the next? Some of us college dinosaurs (people who couldn't finish our four-year degrees in that time period) can remember Gumby's and the sorrow felt when that Huntington institution closed its doors at the same spot. We wondered where would live-music fans go to see live music. Players, the 1896 Club, The Warehouse? None had the charm (or the dirt) of Gumby's. Most people opted for watching (or becoming) the freaks at Gravity. That's also where people danced. Once again, we wonder where we will go in the wake of Drop Shop's demise. In 1995, Allen Dean and Ty Neal, owners of Mycroft's Restaurant as well as Gravity, had the sense to fill the void left by the closing of Gumby's. They bought the building at 1318 Fourth Ave., gutted it, built it under a new design, and best of all, brought some quality live music back to town. Sure, my taste and your taste of "quality" music may differ, but one can't deny that Drop Shop brought in some big bands as well as gave local musicians a venue. Thanks to Drop Shop, bands seen on MTV like Seven Mary Three, Creed, Corrosion of Conformity, and Type O Negative came to town. Even Dada and Flock of Seagulls (greats from the '80s) came to our fair town. I challenge anyone to tell me these bands would have played any place smaller or larger than the Shop. Not in this market. Drop Shop was not the mecca of diversity all the time, but it had one of the more diverse rotating crowds, as I like to call them. The hard/death metal crowds differed from those who came to see the hippie bands who differed from those who came to Retro nights. Often there were overlaps. The ones who watched the hippie bands came to dance on Mondays, too. The younger patrons who came to dance on Retro nights, also came out to be seen any night that an indie (retch!) alternative band played. I also couldn' t help but realize, with the exception of Concept 2000, the Shop had many black patrons, providing all the more diversity. With all that said, the Shop will always be special in my heart for a few reasons. I had the pleasure of working there with some of the finest people in the bar biz. I saw some great shows like Clutch (all three times, including the kiddie show), Steel Pterodactyl (I passed out on the couch for a half-hour), and Idaho (my first date with someone who would be a long-time girlfriend). Also, I learned a lot about college life that one would probably not learn in the classroom. Sometimes, alcohol has evil effects, like waking up in a strange place or with a head-splitting hangover. I realized my tolerance, too. Hitting on drunkards will inevitably get one in undesirable predicaments. Best, though, are the friends I made at the Shop. Often I shared conversation with the best of them over shots of Jaegersmeister and bottles of Miller Lite. You're probably correct in presuming that we never found the cure for cancer during these talks, unless alcohol will do the trick. But we always had a good time. Now when I sip the suds with my compadres at some strange club, I'll be sure to click me heels together and remember, "There's no place like home. There's no place like home."