Thursday, May 14, 2009
Pomp, circumstance, and the Buffalo House Bar & Grill.
My (ahem) 20-year reunion is coming up this summer.
I'm dropping the envelope in the mail today with my check for $25 (yes, the dinner Saturday night really is going to cost just $25- we aren't exactly the fanciest folks), but I'm not sure that I'm actually going to go.
I went to a small school (my graduating class hovered around 60-70 people), so we all actually know one another, and Facebook has recently turned into a mini-reunion of sorts. I am now "friends" with about half of my class, including my sixth grade boyfriend and one of the guys that drunkenly agreed to be spanked at the 10-year. Good times.
The thing is, I went to my 10 and 15-year reunions and holy hell, they were FUN. Both times, we all hung out at one of the local bars (you know, the ones where the divorced teachers from high school hang out at, occasionally hitting on former students, thereby ending up as conversational fodder for us at the reunions and completing the circle of life?), got wasted and whooped it up. Minor nudity, karaoke, kissing, gossip and late-night food at a truck stop may or may not have been involved. No arrests were made, and no one went to the ER, so they both were a resounding success.
But I'm not sure about this one. For one thing, the very act of going acknowledges that I am old enough to be going to my 20-freaking-year reunion. Yuk. I don't feel that old and I don't think I look that old, so why rub my own nose in it? Jesus, I now regularly have students that were born in 1989, never mind that I had already said goodbye to my virginity, totaled a car, smoked my first doobie, committed several John Hughes movies to memory, and officially "became an adult" by that date. I feel like this would be the starting point where we begin marking our time spent together by how many divorces, illnesses, deaths and bankruptcies have passed since we last met. Kind of like my having a conversation with my grandparents, minus the guilt.
...it could be fun. At the very least I'd get a doozy of a blog post about it, right? Hmmm...I wonder if we could get anyone to take off their pants?
It's next month- I'll keep you posted.
Happy Thursday, my monkey charm school graduates. Happy Thursday.