It's not the 20 years, doll, it's the mileage

"The" favorite senior photo circa 1992-93.  I was standing on a milk crate and a bunny ate part of that- my favorite- black leather jacket from Burlington Coat Factory.  If you're interested or buy me a drink, I can tell you the skeevy/uncomfortable conversation

 

Wow.  So, you are now officially talking to an old man.  Dates notwithstanding, I recently attended my high school reunion.   Numero...twenty...oh.   Whatever.  Conversations from the '08 reunion ending with "See you in 5 years!" are now coming around again.  1st it was a few emails from the committee, then the "official" Facebook page, the talking to my BFF about what to expect. 

Yeah.

 

Everything sort of snowballed, y'know?  Like it does at the end-of-Summer/Back-to-school.  (C'mon.  I'm not the only person in my generation to have that melancholy heart when late-August rolls around and Target starts pimping their Trapper Keeper's)  Fringe ends, then it's Ren Fest, then the State Fair, then a mad scramble to cram in mini-vacay's that you can afford then "Oh shit, when did all these tomatoes appear in my garden" etc etc etc...

 

I'll get to stories about the "new" cabin another time.

 

Anyway, I'll be honest.  I think it's kind of an exciting thing, reunions.  I've met people who think they're a stupid waste of time and money (my BFF) to people who's tails were literally wagging off their butt.  For my part, if I've learned anything it's how to (at least) give the appearance of "calm" and not allow my cool demeanor to crack or any of my growing list of social anxieties as I get older shine through.  In other words:

 

 

 

For a guy that starts thinking out about Halloween costumes as early as July, I was a bubbling cauldron of Frass.

 

No, really.  I found myself with low-grade anxiety and further found myself asking "Why"?  Was it because one of the email invite reminders asked if you were "excited to meet up with an old crush/secret admiree'?!??"   I mean PRESSURE!  Then I start thinking "who *didn't* I crush on during the angsty teenage era of my life filled with hormones and Drakkar?!?!? 

 

Not to mention my dysmorphia.  Holy.  Bells.  As one of the growing masses of kidless/unmarried homeowners, was their going to be some sort of unspoken judgement?  Or expectation?  (OF WHAT??!!)  I had the conversation with the g/f about her attendance.  Her thoughts were "Don't you want your friends to see how well you're doing?" and *MY* thought was "You are going to be bored out of your bra straps.  No."  (Curt?  Maybe.  But if you're trying to be considerate/sensitive/respectful, you're also thinking about your personal well-being.  The only think I felt I could safely predict is that I was going to be doing my best to stay sober, stay focused on one conversation at a time, and how nigh-on f#cking impossible it is to be a frassy, ADHD-addled flibbertigibbit in a room of a couple-hundred people you maybe haven't seen in years. 

 

In short- I knew that I would spend the night worried that she'd have a good time.  Okay?)

 

I had 86'ed booze a few days after we started kung-fu rehearsal's since I was exhausted and wanted to lighten up for aerial stuff so I wasn't too worried, and by the time it rolled around I sort of gave up on giving a s*t.  I'd wear pants (a success, IMO), tennis shoes (because comfort), and this new cowboy shirt I grabbed on clearance.  (Because...f#ck.  Didn't I wear a cowboy shirt to the 15 year reunion?  F#ck, F#ck, F#ck.)

 

Anyway, I took advantage of the reunion discount and rolled into the hotel early enough for a nap, shave, and shower.  (Okay, point of order?  This is the weirdest f#cking hotel ever.  It's like...smack in the middle of a Northwest Suburban Neighborhood.  Dropped in surrounded by townhomes and ramblers.) 

 

Showed up.  Grabbed my nametag.  Started to boogie.

 

And it was pretty fun.  Really fun.  I've read this is a part of getting older, but I just sort of "let go and let God" and figured I'd shuffle off any preconceptions about how the night "could" go.  (I had a few.  Yes.)  And social media being what it is, it's awful nice to have faces to put to profile images.  (Especially...cough cough...when half of their pics are of their kids.  I wanna see *You*, Gawdammit.  Yes, You.)  The thing that stuck out the most (besides the booze) was that most folks were pretty chill.  And I could dig that the most.  It ended, we spilled out into the lobby, I grabbed the bottle of moscato to toss on a communal table, and when 3am rolled around I called it a night.  (Aloooooone, thankyouverymuch.  Buddy boy had rehearsal the next morning.  And wouldn't that be some awkward shit?  "So.  Uhhhhh.  Wanna read what you wrote in my yearbook 20 years ago or do you just wanna leave?"  Riiiiiiiiiight.)

 

In short, don't skip your reunions if you have one coming up and it's your thing and you're on the fence.  For my part, I hope this means in the FB era that we might start trying to get together more often than not...maturing social anxities aside.   Before I leave you, I realize that I didn't write anything about the 15 year reunion but have some pretty vivid memories of the night- ergo, I decided to include a brief timeline below.  Enjoy.

 

The author, on the right, with classmates.  I didn't want too many pictures taken since I tend to get shiny and double-chinny when drinking in hot, crowded areas.  This was the best I could find.  Gawdamn cowboy shirt.

1998-  I leave my Uptown apartment to iron my dress shirt (a tan, pseudo-buttonless number.  I wasn't good at tying ties, so I left it in lieu of an a-shirt since I was 23 and vain.) at my folks.  As dad and I watched the Vikes, he started "sniffing" the air audibly....like a Bloodhound.  He then makes a wince-y face and says "That's a lot of cologne.  What is it?".  "Dolce and Gabbana" I reply.  "Never heard of it."   (...beat...we drink beer.  More Vikings.)  "You know you're not getting laid tonight, right?"  (Cue Mikey spitting his beer over the ironing board.)

Of note:  I was called the wrong "Mike" by two different people, Nobody was impressed with my sweet dance moves (and here I thought 4 years of being a club rat was gonna be good for something), when I said I had done a movie- no one cared, and when I said I lived in Uptown someone said "That figures."  In short, my perception was that a lot of folks hadn't changed *too* much, and that I needed to make sure the girl I was crushing on in homeroom isn't being hovered around by her husband.

AKA- Dad was right.

2003-  Missed it.  Young, in love, and on my way toward marriage my fiancee' and I made an easy choice and skipped it.  I was sent some nasty emails about my missing it, but nothing we weren't able to push past.

2008- KIERAN'S!!!  The girlfriend asked if she should drive, but I said I'd be fine.  Turns out, I was wrong.  (Surprise!)  Wore a cowboy shirt (GAWDAMMIT) and...got...wasted.  Sooooo I think I had a good time?  Facebook was pretty new, and I remember the trickle down of new "friend" requests over the next few weeks.   Lot's of people asked if I was married or had kids.  I needed to call my g/f for a ride, because I lost my car *somewhere* in downtown Mpls.  (I found it the next day after a bit of walking around...because drunken recall)