Well I did it. I survived my 20th high school reunion. And in one piece and with relatively little hangover, which was a miracle since I was mixing my liquor like an amateur. Although I did have a little trouble making coffee the next morning at the Brekhus'. Josh kindly reminded me that putting the coffee pot under the filter was an essential, if less than glamorous, step. The night started off well with Jenny B opening a bottle of Veuve Cliquot that belonged, of course, to her parents. Nothing symbolizes regressing back to high school like stealing mom and dad's liquor. And our friend Chuck had hoofed it all the way from Michigan at the last minute and that was a welcome surprise. Not only would the ladies have a handsome escort to the ball, but there would be at least one interesting person to talk to (not including the usual suspects of course).
So we all got dressed and left our husbands with ten children. Yep. 10. At least they had a big house for them all to run around in. Josh only had one to look after and he can't walk, so I figured the odds were working in his favor. And I only got one. "where are the...?" phone call from him all night. What a superstar!
We arrived at the Four Points Sheraton Hotel (nothing but the best!) at 7:00 and I almost instantly thought that coming was a HUGE mistake and how the hell was I going to get out of this one. About two minutes later the heel on my left boot broke. It was not a big enough reason to leave, only something that annoyed me all night because I had to be sure not to lean back in order to keep the heel on. That's what I get for wearing high heels for the first time in my life.
There's not much to tell about the evening itself. People looked really good and this pissed me off enormously. I was expecting a bunch of people to have put on weight (like yours truly); be on tons of prescription medicine (ditto); and have existential angst (no seriously, our class was not, on the whole, bright enough to even know what the word 'angst' means, never mind 'existential'). While we were driving there everyone talked about their crushes and who they made out with in high school, wondering if their old flame would be there. I kept thinking how glad I was that I never really dated anyone from our high school. Just as I was sitting down to dinner and thinking how relieved I was, the guy I made out with freshman year walked up to our table and sat down. And the Alzheimer's has officially set in.
One of the highlights of the evening was watching Val kick it up on the dance floor. Only eight weeks after delivering her second child, she looked amazing and was dancing up a storm to celebrate the fact that she wasn't lugging a human being around anymore (well at least not in her body). She was probably also glad not to have her 2 year-old hanging on her for attention, while the newborn is attached to her boob. God knows that alone is enough to make you dance like a maniac.
The person who I thought looked the best was a woman that I did not even remember. She was, of course, someone who was low-profile and I thought she was now stunning. Looking back at her senior portrait she was beautiful even then, but in the European, interesting way that, let's face it, teenagers just don't get. And frankly, the 'popular girls' had great bodies and all, but they were as skanky as ever. There were some people who impressed me as being warmer and more genuine than I remember and there were a few people who had good hearts, but were a bit of a mess in high school, that I was happy to see had gotten it together and are now flourishing. It was an interesting event from a sociological standpoint, but as Lisa so succinctly put it, "I expected it to be more fun".