My 10 Year High School Reunion.
“Hey, Stacy!” The voice greeted me as we walked into my 10-year High School Reunion.
“Hey Charles,” I replied.
“My name’s Paul,” he told me, with much less warmth. I shrugged, looked at the bartender, and ordered another drink. I wasn’t even officially in the reunion yet and I was already on my second Kamikaze and my first name-foul. This was going to be a very, very long night. Why the hell did I come to this thing anyway? I haven’t even been home in almost 10 years. Why am I doing this to myself? My boyfriend looked right at me and whispered “Charles?” while shaking his head.
“Shut up, this is going to be really bad. Can we just leave?”
“Oh come on Stace, It’s not going to be that bad. Look, you look great and we just paid for a cab. Not to mention “Charles” already saw you. It’s not like you can duck out now.”
I really wasn’t feeing well and it wasn’t the kamikazes. Just then a friend of mine Chad from L.A walked in the door. “Oh my god! What the hell are you doing here?” I asked him.
“My girlfriend is March. Do you know her?”
“I totally know March!” I exclaimed. The Universe had heard my prayers, and now we had backup. Now if I could only reverse time and call Paul by the correct name all would have been right with the world.
We left the mini-bar, which in my opinion was a very bad idea. But the reunion was not being held at the mini-bar; it was being held outside. Also a bad idea in my opinion. It was winter in a California mountain town. At least I had come prepared. I had written a bad check for the floor length, velvet-ish type material, long sleeve, faux fur, tight ass, made me look great jacket I was wearing and damn it I had to at least show it off. So outside I went.
We walked up to this huge line and I got one look at all the people there. Maybe I should have had that third Kamikaze, I thought to myself. When we got up to the front I ran into one of my closest friends from high school who was pregnant at the time. “Poor thing,” I told my boyfriend “she’s going to have to endure this thing sober.” I was then labeled with my nametag in case I forgot who I was at anytime during the evening. And sent in to what was surely going to be the most painful experience I was going to endure since the pap smear of 1987. My boyfriend grabbed my hand “Are you ready?” he asked.
“Sure, why not,” I took a deep breath and jumped back into the past.
It wasn’t long before I was bombarded with hugs and kissed from old friends and actually felt kind of silly for being so nervous. Why hadn’t I come home sooner? This wasn’t so bad. Everyone looked good, there was food and booze, I could totally handle this. I had learned my lesson from Charles/Paul, so each time we were bombarded with the “Hey, Stacy!” calls, I snuck a quick glance at the now invaluable nametags.
“Looking good, Lacey!”
Damn, I’m good.
On our way back to the bar, we ran into someone from the class below mine. The school I went to was such a small school that the class of 88 and the class of 87 had decided to have a joint reunion. “Hi Stacy!” he said. He was very enthusiastic. I liked that about him. “Do you remember me?”
“Totally… (nametag check) Kevin, I totally remember you.” NO idea.
“Let me buy you a drink. What are you having?” he asked. Wow, not only was this guy a total stranger but he was going to by me a drink, and I didn’t have to make out with him or anything. This reunion totally rocked!
“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” I told him. Then BAM there it was, a beautiful, free, gin and tonic. I was a very happy woman.
The schmoozing went on for a while with people catching and up introducing their spouses, which I didn’t have, and showing pictures of their kids, which I also didn’t have. And there I was in a jacket I couldn’t afford, with a boyfriend I couldn’t stand. But I DID have a purse full of weed, a free drink and a new BFF named Kevin. So at least I had that going for me.
Somewhere along the way the boyfriend and I ran into another friend of mine. She and I had been roommates in Cheerleading camp together and she looked amazing. Do you know how I knew this? Because my boyfriend made it very clear how amazing she looked. I may have had more of a problem with this obnoxious behavior, but to be honest, there were a couple of guys there that I wished I had paid more attention to in high school. I was beginning to regret not coming stag to this thing. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
After dinner we found ourselves back at the bar with Kevin and more gin & tonics. I was really getting to like Kevin. Then my boyfriend slipped on the grass while trying to do a double backhand spring with a Triple Gainer. Okay, so maybe he was just walking, slipped on some grass and landed on the pavement, putting a large hole in the knee of his pants. “I’m going to go inside and see if I can find something to patch this up,” he told me.
“Okay. Do you want me to come with you?” I asked him.
“No, you stay and have fun,” he said.
So I stayed and hung with Kevin and caught up with more people. It was about a half hour when I realized he was really taking a very long time. Did he find a tailor to fix his pants? Did he find a suit shop and bought a new pair of pants? Did he score some silk worms to spin him a new patch made out of the finest silk? Where the fuck was he? So I go inside the hotel and start to look around. Meanwhile, outside they were handing out prizes for who traveled the furthest to get to the reunion. Who was the most changed. Who slept with the most people in high school. You know, that kind of shit. And there I was looking around for my stupid date. “Have you seen Garth?” I asked my friend March.
“No sorry, I haven’t seen him.”
“Hey, Kevin have you seen Garth?”
“Nope sorry, “ he said.
“Has anyone seen my fucking date?” This time I was mostly talking to myself, when I ran into Bobby. “Looking good, Stace,” he said.
“You too,” I said staring at him with a slight bit of drool sliding down my chin. “I’m a, a, a, looking for my asshole. I mean date.” I walked away from beautiful Bobby and headed upstairs to a party I had heard about. That’s when a woman I had never met said, “Hi, you must be Stacy. I’m Kevin’s girlfriend.” Kevin had a girlfriend? There was a Mrs. Kevin this whole time? Where the hell has she been? So I met Mrs. Kevin and went back on my mission. Finally I decided this was an exercise in futility and gave up. I walked down the front stairs into the lobby and there was Garth with my cheerleading friend. Please tell me he is not hitting on one of my friends at my high school reunion. My boyfriend is seriously such an ass.
I gave my girlfriend an apologetic look as if to say, “don’t touch him, even I’m not sure where’s he’s been.” And the three of us headed back outside. All of the awards had been handed out at this point and I totally missed who had slept with the most people. To this day it remains a mystery. We grabbed Kevin, got stoned out of our minds, and headed to Chad’s Place, the local bar in town.
Once at Chad’s I sat down to survey the scene. Saw some guy staring at me. Not in a “great jacket!” kind of way, but in more of a creepy “you complete me” kind of way. Couldn’t he see that I was with my boyfriend? Oh. Right. Boyfriend’s disappeared again. Nice. “Stacy, do you remember me?” creepy guy says, while giving me his best seductive stare.
Shit! He’s not wearing a nametag. Thank God my cheerleader girlfriend whispers “Glen,” into my ear.
“Sure I do, Glen,” I say back.
“Wow, you look really great Stace,” he told me.
“I know,” I said, while touching the jacket. “It’s velvet.”
This whole thing was starting to grow old. I politely excused myself and decided that I had had enough of a walk through memory lane for one evening. I found my boyfriend ogling some girl who was dancing with herself in the mirror and told him it was time to go home. I kissed and hugged my way out of the bar and hitched a ride with some friends that were going our way.
All in all I’m glad went back to the 10-year reunion, I now consider it as a dress rehearsal of sorts for the 15 year one. But this time I was proud of my date. Drank Captain and Cokes and smoked much better weed. But that my friends, is a story for another day.
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