In the chaotic, low-resolution world of late-night VHS tapes and scrambled cable signals, three words captured a generation’s collective anxiety: “Was that 87?”
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. was that 87
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. In the chaotic, low-resolution world of late-night VHS
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. Static hisses like rain
Then it’s gone. Replaced by a test pattern or a preacher selling salvation. You spin the fine-tune knob. Nothing.
So next time you scroll past a blurry meme or a glitching YouTube upload, pause. Ask yourself: Was that 87?
By morning, the question became unanswerable. You couldn’t rewind live TV. You couldn’t search a database. You could only replay the 1.5 seconds of grainy footage in your mind until it turned into something else entirely.