Twenty Years Ago Today
My friend Poodle told me the other day that he had read my blog. Had he not known it was me, he said, he would find me arrogant. I’m sure I come off as a curmudgeon, a prick, a misanthrope, fill in the blank. Last night was my reunion and I was excited. I couldn’t imagine all the material I would glean throughout the evening. This event was over twenty years in the making, how could I not have a novel’s worth of stories from this night? Alas, my friends, the post maybe a let down, because my reunion was straight up, amazing. My mind was blown by the whole night that I don’t know if I can conjure up the cynicism to make this post funny, but I’ll try.
My old girlfriend, Liza Persky of Live and Let Date fame is in town. The reunion started at seven at the Hotel Sofitel so the plan was to meet Liza there for a drink at six. It was great seeing her. We were in the middle of an amazing conversation when I heard the one word I feared that would break it up, “Garber!” I thought wearing a mohawk would keep me incognito; but, alas, the reunion had begun. An old buddy Mike came over. He was meeting some friends before the shindig in the bar. Liza excused herself to the restroom and Mike and I caught up a bit. When Liza returned, it was just the two of us. But now the parade of alumni was in full effect. Their names began streaming back to me. I only had a short amount of time with Liza and wanted to spend it one on one, but when two mega-babes, Amanda and Dori, came over, I was happy to share my attention. It got really weird when two other beauties, Gab and Kelli came over. They both knew Liza from back in the day and shouted her name with excitement, while I had to introduce myself. Liza had a birthday to attend and I had to walk down memory lane so we bid our adieus. I headed upstairs where the party was just starting.
I went to the reception table and told them my name. They strapped a white band on my wrist and handed me an envelope which seemed the size of one of James Bond’s dossiers. The woman opened it up and pulled out a piece of paper, “This is your free drink ticket.” I paid a hundred and thirty bucks for this event, there was nothing in that envelope that was “free.” The first two hours were overwhelming. My A.D.D. was kicking in strong to quite strong. Every time I saw a new person, I excused myself to go say hi. In the beginning, I recognized most everyone, but there were a few who I had no idea who they were. Luckily, some of them were spouses, who when I found out that bit of information, I didn’t even excuse myself, I just walked away. At the ten-year reunion, I never went into the ballroom. I just stayed at the bar in the foyer. I vowed to do the again this time. Unfortunately, my third drink, without food, caught up with me, so I got in line in the buffet. They had wedding chicken, wedding salmon, and pasta. I ate just enough to line my stomach, then it was back out to the party.
Overall, most people looked the same. The women looked amazing. I was shocked how many of them had given birth many times and looked better twenty years later. In fact, one woman had a three-month old at home and was skinnier than she was in high school. God bless Beverly Hills. The night became a blur. I was really touched by the number of people who said to me, “Notes on a cocktail napkin.” Thank you for reading, Normans. Since I paid a happy hour’s worth of tips to attend, I was gonna stay until the bitter end, which was one. But at twelve-fifteen with only a couple dozen of us left, we went downstairs to the bar.
The bar had a rope in front of it and we were told that only hotel guests were allowed in. Fine with me. I’m way too old to stand in line to get into a place I don’t want to be, to be surrounded by douche bags (not the reunion attendees, mind you) I don’t want to know. I got my car from valet and said my good nights. I group of ladies still wanted to go out. I was down, but where? Turns out they could get into the hotel bar. I saw my car coming out of the garage. Rebecca asked if I was coming in. I said, “I’ll see you in there.” Then I mumbled, “After I get my car and go home.”
When people ask me about high school, I usually remember it fondly. What with the hormones, the severe acne, and the insecurity, I guess it was all right. They say that high school is the best time of your life. I feel that life keeps getting better or should I say I keep getting better. Now I know why they say that youth is wasted on the young. I had so much fun at my reunion. I actually wish they happened more often. Someone asked how we would look at the thirty-year. If I live that long, I’m sure my mohawk will be pretty fierce. As for the title, I lied. I graduated in June of 1988. It was more than twenty years ago today.
poodle thinks someone else is arrogant? hmmm.
loved this post.