I drove up in Sally's SUV which she kindly lent me for a few weeks. There are probably many more embarrassing things to do than to have your mom drop you off for your 10 year reunion, but at that point, you might as well just not come.
Anyway, our reunion was held at the
Check-in was simple. You just picked up your printed name tag on a lanyard and put it around your neck. The invitation recommended "cocktail casual" attire, which, according to the room, meant anything from jeans and hoodies to full suits. I was kind of inspired though by the unconventional attire definition. If I ever send out wedding invitations, I'd be tempted to add attire: cotillion casual or formal pirate attire. And I'm definitely handing out lanyards, because nothing classes up a cocktail causal outfit like a name tag lanyard.
The ballroom we were in had a buffet table and cash bars at both ends. (tickets were only $35, and probably most of that went to pay the hotel). There were big round tables, a few balloons, a small dance floor with the DJ. (I looked around for the party, but I couldn't find it) and a photo booth with "silly" props like oversized sunglasses and a chalkboard for people to "cut loose" and "have some fun." I was sorely tempted to get a picture holding a chalkboard with "10 years of living Clean!"
Whitney, Emily + Franklin, Cassie + Dan, Janelle, Erika Z, and a few other familiar faces from that little group were there, and I spent a lot of time chatting with them, and trying to make the tag-along husbands/fiancees feel less painfully awkward. I had actually met all of them before.
I was amazed at how many people I remembered more than how many people were simply unknown to me. I graduated from a small city- my HS had about 2400 students. There were over 800 people in my graduating class. I'd guess about 100-120 showed up, a pretty good turn out. We had great representation from the minorities. Both black alumni showed up.
Facebook adds an interesting dynamic to the whole reunion thing. On the one hand, you get to keep up and find out what's going on with people. You don't need to come to the reunion to find out what happened to so and so, since even though you haven't seen him in ten years, you've seen his kid's photos and the pictures of his house somewhere in the north midwest with a lot of trees and you know he's doing accounting for Smithfield Corporate. There's less surprise by how people look because you see their pictures online. Even people who don't use Facebook still turn up in other people's photos.
On the other hand, Facebook gives you a conversational opener, a kind of lead in. "Hey, I remember seeing a lot of jungle photos on facebook, what were you doing in Madagascar?" and you get to fill in the rest of the story. Apparently, I'm relatively active on Facebook because a lot of people asked me about my time living in Mexico.
However, the boost that I got from people vaguely remembering who I was and being kind of impressed that I'm almost an architect was counterbalanced by people remembering me as the guy who was always making out way too publicly in the halls. Part of my mind blocked out the memories of people saying "Jesus, get a room!" and the other part remembers not caring what anyone else thought.
I had a few overpriced drinks, but kept it pretty moderate. I was surprised by the number of people who just wanted to get shitfaced drunk. Maybe it's employment- for the vast majority of people, there are few times of the year when you can drink with wild abandon. In contrast, I could, with very little consequence, make an afternoon tomorrow of solid drinking, ending by passing out cold on the living room floor, and then do it again the next day. And the next, and so on, until the cats start to pee on me in contempt.
The DJs were truly awful. I don't know if they were instructed to play the un-dancible music from our high school dances, or if they were just naturally gifted that way. They may have "brought the party" but they were obviously holding it ransom, bound and gagged in the trunk of their van. I requested YMCA since that's a good burner but they waited until the end of the night to play at it, at which point the remainder of the crowd, mostly drunk, exploded into dancing, some of them on the buffet table until the private security staff made them get down.
After most of my friends had left, and I'd been listening to a classmate who was not only totally drunk but also stoned go on and on about wanting to bring art into his life via paintings acquired at comic-cons, I decided that it was time to go home. If I happen to be in Phoenix in 15 years, I might even consider coming to the 25th reunion.
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