To ask “Was that 87?” meant: Did we just see what I think we saw? Or did the static fool us? What makes the question so haunting is its built-in ambiguity. You never got proof. The signal would fade, and with it, the memory would soften. Was that a nipple or a shadow? A gunshot or a car backfiring? A curse word or a cough?
And yet, something has been lost. The thrill of the near-miss. The shared mythology of the almost-seen. The whispered question that bonded late-night conspirators. was that 87
Even if you don’t know the answer, you’ll understand the feeling. David L. is a writer based in Portland. His first memory of channel 87 was a 1986 Buick commercial that turned into a werewolf. To ask “Was that 87
So next time you scroll past a blurry meme or a glitching YouTube upload, pause. Ask yourself: Was that 87? You never got proof
If you grew up in the 1980s or 1990s, you know the scene. It’s 11:30 on a school night. You’ve twisted the TV’s UHF dial to a fuzzy channel—maybe 33, maybe 56—because you heard they sometimes show movies uncut. Static hisses like rain. Then, through the snow, a glimpse: a car chase, an explosion, or (if you’re lucky) a silhouette removing a blouse.
Then it’s gone. Replaced by a test pattern or a preacher selling salvation. You spin the fine-tune knob. Nothing.