Rob and Jacob met in the sixth grade and were best friends ever since.
Robbie James Carlat was BERTO FRESH. That’s what he liked me to call him.
He was an outlaw, a cowboy, a pirate, a mad scientist, a prankster, my confidant, my wild card, my friend, my brother.
With Robbie, there was rarely any warning before a wild ride. Whether fighting some random guys in a bar or hanging out with a bunch of gullible girls who thought he owned a record label, things would just take on a life of their own.
He really had some big ass balls and one helluva follow through. I remember when we were in 7th grade, Robbie said, “How funny would it be if we baked cupcakes with laxatives and gave it to our English class?” And that’s exactly what we did! I regret nothing.
Life was never boring with Robbie by your side because, simply put, he was fun as fuck. Although sometimes it was hard to tell in the moment. He was definitely a handful, but now that he’s gone, I don’t know what to do with my hands.
On the surface, Robbie was the king of shenanigans, but there was so much more to him. If you knew him like I did and looked past the outlaw/cowboy/pirate parts, there was this gentle man inside who, no matter what, only wanted to do right by you. Loyalty meant everything to him. If I ever needed him, he was right there for me and if he ever needed me, I was right there for him–even when he didn’t necessarily want me to be. His friendship meant the world to me.
One of the toughest parts of going away to school is feeling like you’ve left something behind at home, but when Robbie moved in with me in Binghamton, I felt like I got to bring an important piece of home with me. I was so fucking happy.
Robbie’s eccentricities were only matched by his intelligence. I was the one going to college yet he was the one always teaching me. With the power of the Internet, he could figure out how to do anything.
Rob, when I miss you the most, I touch the scar on my forehead from when we dropped your motorcycle trying to load it into a U-Haul. Living with you had to be some of the best years of my life, and the worst for our landlord’s.
Our crazy times together were amazing, but I’ll always long for one more game of Injustice, the two of us on the couch, beers in hand, cursing at each other until the game would load again. I’ll admit it this one time, you won that tournament, but I want a rematch next time we meet.