1:32 pm - Friday, Aug. 30, 2002
In Which The Party Starts
Let�s see, where was I�. So we see some peoples we know and I get up the gumption to go on in. We go inside and I see one of my third cousins twice removed, who says HI as we brush past on our way to the bar. I�m almost giddy to see the folks I do recognize. I�m thinking this won�t be so bad, but I order a G&T anyway. We learn that the actual shin-dig is taking place downstairs. There is a narrow dark stairway with a closed door at the end, and I�m feeling apprehensive again.

After a brief HowdeeDo all around we decide we have to go in. I am quite sure there was no way I would go down there alone, and was reminded of feeling like that the first time I was in high school. I totally wanted to go ahead and get it over with.

We descend in mass and open the door to find�.. two people, sitting at a table in a room full of streamers, alone. A small gathering is outside on a porch beyond the room, sitting at some of those white plastic lawn sets. We pay our money and get nametags. This is a good thing, �cause I don�t recognize hardly anyone.. After our group shuffles through the line we do like everyone else and head outside. I feel awkward. Awkward and apprehensive. Deja vou all over again. This is reminding me more and more of high school. We manage to find one of the last remaining empty tables, and at the table next to it is someone we recognize. Yay! And she�s cool! Yay! And we�re saying our hewhowdies again and then a few guy type peoples walk over, and we�re heyhowdying with them too and it seems like I�ve forgotten my apprehension, and I�m really enjoying this. It is really actually nice to be there, talking to these people.

Now, I had been warned by several sources that this reunion would be a big ole resurrection of all the clicks there were in high school, and that I�d be disappointed by their persistence. I tried to observe this happening and this is what I noticed. People began by grouping themselves up with their old friends. This is to be expected, yes? Then there were people who overlapped clicks and would get the heyhowdies flowing between two groups, and then you�d fill your friends and neighbors in on what you just heard if they brought up a name, and every now and then you�d go get a beer or something and you�d heyhowdy the person next to you even though you talked to them twice in all your years of school together, and things mixed more than I thought they would.

HOWEVER, I knew going into this that there were some people whom I would not want to talk to. Not for any real reason, just that I knew I would have no core similarities that would make even the most superficial of conversations worthwhile. I noticed that the people I chose to avoid/ignore ended up spending a lot of time at the same tables. So I guess it was like a great big merging of the clicks. And really, isn�t that a good thing? In the real world there are some people I just don�t want to be friends with. It has nothing to do with what they wear or do for a living or how they have sex. And it isn�t that I wish bad things upon these people, it�s just that if I only have a few hours to talk to people, I�m going to spend it talking to the ones I like, and I imagine many others are of the same sensibility.

This is where it becomes a little awkward to talk about the goings on. There are several little funny stories that could be told, but I think they are the kind of funny that could hurt someone�s feelings if they ever read the entry, which I�m sure they won�t, but I run-on.

I read this book called LipSchtick, in which the author discusses the phenomenon of women using the bathroom en mass. I have rarely experienced it. This reunion was an exception. Every time I went into the restroom I had a nice conversation with a group of women I would not be talking to once I exited. On one occasion I entered the itty-bitty-two-seater to find a puddle of puke splattered acrost the floor. I say �Eeeew�. Two women leave, and the remaining folk point out that it was one of these who did the deed. As the rest of us take turns using the remaining clean stall, one lady comments �She pushed me out of the way, she still missed, and she got puke on my pants. � There was a loud chorus of �Oh my god!!! There�s puke on your pants!?! No way!! � She says �Well, I�m a nurse, so it�s not like it�s the first or the last time I�ll get puked on..� to which I reply �Yes, but you�re not getting paid for this.� She agreed, and then made some comments about how she was going to have to get them dry-cleaned �cause she sure as hell wasn�t going to wash that.

I also spent a decent sized chunk of the evening speaking to someone I don�t ever remember having a conversation with in high school, and yet he knew my name. Go figure. I was ever so surprised at the number of people who knew my name. I will admit it was frequently remembered in association with band or orchestra, as I was an uber-band geek, but that�s ok. It was a huge warm fuzzy every time someone remembered. But I digress again. So I spent a lot of time talking with this guy, and he ended up sharing drugs with me, which was so sweet. He seemed to want to share with someone, and seemed a little out of place, like a war veteran or something. Like the horrors he�d seen had not been witnessed by the likes of most of the people there. I could be talking out my ass. It was just the way he laughed about his father�s drinking. The familiarity he had with the accoutrements of a rough life. I found myself wanting to comfort him.

I did do a little anthropolgical research too. It seems that many people did in fact graduate high school, go straight into college and come out the other side still aiming for the same thing they went in for. Not only that, but they then proceeded to get a job in that field and stay there. Go figure. There was also a group who farted around, picked eight different majors and still didn't get a job in the same field as their degree. I find these people to be much more fun. I freely admit I'm biased.

We stayed past midnight- the appointed hour for going home. I ended up driving, which almost never ever happens because I'm a lightweight. Felt a little like I swimming in happy stew all the way home. Relief mixed with pleasure. It was just so much more fun than I had thought it would be.

But wait, there's more!

Coming soon - The Pic-A-Nic.