Title: A brief appearance for your entertainment
Hello, all. I'm back from my ten year high school reunion. Feer. I hope all
of you had a good weekend, because I did.
Except for getting up late and almost missing our plane on Friday, all went
well. Oh, and Delta Airlines losing Cynthia's luggage. We got that back the next
day, so that was okay too. My sister was there to pick us up at the airport,
even. It's always good to see her, doubly so this time because Cynthia was with
me. My girlfriend has never been down South for any length of time (except New
Orleans last year for a conference, but that doesn't count), so I was really
excited about her getting to see where I went to high school and college. We
had an hour-long drive to Ruston (yes, it's THAT far from anywhere), but
first... first, my friends, we had to stop at Old Navy. Because there was a
sale on. And we're such darn girly girls. You don't even want to know how much
money we spent... but I now have a V-neck blue sweater that looks damned
fetching, if I do say so myself.
We barely got back to the hotel in time to check in before they cancelled our
reservations. By this time it was six o'clock. The high school homecoming game
was at seven, and we still hadn't eaten anything since lunch. I heard some
gumbo calling my name, so we went to Ponchatoula's, which is the local Cajun
bar. Cynthia had been having erotic dreams about shrimp etouffee ever since her
brief trip to New Orleans. I craved gumbo. The etouffee was every bit as good
as I thought it would be, but my gumbo was, sadly, a disappointment. It had
no spice, and by the time I put enough Tabasco in it to perk it up,
it tasted vinegary and nasty. Yecchh. Maybe they had a Yankee in the kitchen
that night.
The high school homecoming game was so weird to me. I haven't been to a Ruston
football game since Rachel was in high school. To my great amusement, one of my
fellow band nerds who was two years behind me is now the head band director for
RHS. So funny. I remember him as a 16-year-old drum dork. We finally found my
class sitting in the north end zone -- oddly enough, they were flanked by a
banner proclaiming, "WELCOME CLASS OF 1990". Go figure. We wandered up and sat
down while I tried to find familiarity in faces that had aged ten years since
graduation. It was harder than I thought it would be.
The game got boring after a while and we decided it was much more worth our
time to go to the Que Stick (Rachel's usual hangout). About that I just have
to say this: 3-Man (also known as Presidents and Assholes) is not a game to be
playing with rum & Coke. Always switch to crappy beer beforehand. Your liver
and your stomach will both thank you. Yes. Needless to say, I got pretty damn
toasty. Living at high altitudes will improve your alcohol tolerance at sea
level rather much. I was drunk as Cooter Brown, y'all. I didn't embarrass
myself, fortunately; I got through that phase of drinking a couple of years ago.
Getting sick sucks. I don't go there.
Rachel's friends were wonderful, as they usually are. I thought I was going to
have to kick some boy's ass; it's a long story, but let's just say he took
advantage of my sister while she was drunk one night, and hasn't dared show
his face since, until last Friday. In my drunken (and therefore invincible)
state, I swore to beat him until he stopped twitching if he so much as laid a
finger on her. Fortunately, I didn't have to kill him: the two of them had a
quiet but heated discussion and all was apparently well. She was still upset,
though, so we ended up over at her ex-boyfriend's trailer (yes, trailer --
shut up), where Cynthia and I crashed out on the floor while Rachel and the ex
talked about the situation with Asshole Boy. We got back to the hotel around
five in the morning and flopped down on the bed, too tired and too drunk to do
anything except sleep.
Saturday morning was spent unconscious in the hotel room; after having gotten
to bed at five in the morning, the last thing I wanted to do was go
to a barbecue and face my cheery, chipper, sober classmates. Instead I called
my sister to get her drunken ass over to the hotel so we could eat. She gave me
her car for the afternoon since she had to be at work at the radio station at
one PM anyway. I dropped her off, went and got her some McDonald's like the
nice sister I am, stole some of her fries and went back to the hotel to pick
up Cynthia so we could get lunch. We ended up at the Trenton Street Cafe, which
is a bar thingy I remembered from my college years.
Well, they're not so much a bar any more, at least downstairs. The decor has
been redone (very nicely, I might add) and there's some really killer paintings
on the walls, among other things. The college girl waitress was fully made up
with every hair in place -- and this was at 3 PM on a Saturday afternoon, y'all.\
She reminded me of why I love Southern women so much: they're just so damned
beautiful. Plus the accent. You gotta love our accent. Hell, I'm
Southern, and a thick-as-honey deep South drawl gets me every time. Yummy.
Anyway... we had a couple of cheeseburgers and then went over to the new
Guatamalen import store across the street from the engineering building. The
space this store is in has a long, sordid history of businesses trying and
failing to make a go of it. Why is a mystery; the location is near enough the
college to be visited by both students and the general population. Who knows.
The latest incarnation is called "Mijos" and is run by a ginger-haired
gentleman who seems to thoroughly enjoy his work. We spent far too much time
oohing and aahing over his acquisitions and ended up buying a jade and silver
necklace for Cynthia, and a jade and silver ring for me. The ring curves around
to form two hearts on either side of the stone, which is a smokey green color.
It's really beautiful. I wore it on my left hand ring finger for the dinner to
signify that I am, in fact, taken. Cynthia already wears a ring I bought her on
her left hand; it seemed appropriate.
After Mijos, we drove across town to see my parents' friends John and Deon, who
I hadn't seen in a couple of years. I call John and Deon the Barometer Couple,
because between them they have more degrees than one. I think they both have two
PhD's each. They're both whip-smart and can talk to anyone about anything. Cynthia
was a little intimidated by them, but she and John started talking about art
therapy, which is her passion. So she warmed up to them.
I told Deon that Ian and I are divorcing. She seemed genuinely shocked. I
guess it really hasn't been that long since we got married; it only seems
longer. Three years can be forever.
We stayed just a little too long and had to rush back to pick up Rachel from
work. I wanted to go to the department store and try to get something to wear
to the reunion dinner besides khakis and a sweater, but they didn't have
anything that A) fit me and B) I would be caught dead in. Alas. Back to the
hotel. A quick shower and frantic rush later, we were on our way to the reunion.
Half an hour late, granted, but what do you want? We're girls.
Cynthia and Rachel both looked so cute. Cynthia had picked up a shimmery
blue-purple blouse at Old Navy the day before, and she wore that with a
charcoal gray skirt. The effect was very, very nice. Rachel took advantage of
her height by wearing a lavender blouse, long velvet black skirt and knee-high
leather boots that boosted her to almost six feet tall. She twisted her hair up
instead of wearing it down and looked very sophisticated. Me, I had on my new
blue V-neck, a white T-shirt, khakis and Cynthia's nice brown shoes. Plus my
black wool peacoat, which never fails to make me look like a yuppie. Sigh.
We arrived just after most of the folks had arrived; we weren't too late after
all. Most of the ladies were in suits or dresses, except me and a couple of
other dykey-looking women. Fortunately, I was dressed like most of the guys,
so I kind of blended.
The weird thing was trying to put names and faces together. At least they had
the foresight to give everyone name tags. I saw a couple of people I knew right
away. Everyone seemed very friendly and happy to see each other. A few people
I was hoping would be there, weren't; this is not surprising. Most of the people
I hung with in high school were freaks and would not attend a reunion if you
paid them in sexual favors and beer. But my art buddy, Julia, was
there. She was looking really damn good, too. Holy shit, y'all.
Note to self: most of the girls who were skinny in high school are still skinny.
Find out their secret.
After dinner, there was a slide show of everyone's senior pictures. How
embarrassing. Mine could have been much, MUCH worse than it was, so I'm not
complaining. Cynthia and Rachel about fell out laughing at the sight of me in a
dress. Can't blame them; it was pretty hideous. At least I didn't have Big 80's
Hair(tm).
The dance started after the slide show. That was the REAL fun, particularly
since I was on my third rum & Coke of the evening and was buzzing nicely, as
were most of my classmates from the looks of things. Heh. Somehow I got roped
into a crowd of Popular Girls -- girls who were thin, perky and popular in high
school and still are to this day. I had an interesting relationship with the
popular crowd at my school: the girls and I were buddies for the most part.
(This is different from the high school I attended before moving to Ruston; in
that school, I was anathema, the class scapegoat, and generally picked on every
day I showed up.)
I suppose this was the highlight of the evening. I was my usual charming, witty
self (snork) and the girls were two-and-a-half sheets to the wind, so I was
veeeerrry entertaining for at least ten minutes. "Are you here with anyone?"
one of them asked, weaving only slightly.
"Yup, I'm here with my sister and my friend, Cynthia," I replied, pointing to
them across the floor.
"That's sooo cool. Are you with anyone? Like, in a relationship?"
"Yeeees, actually, I'm engaged." (This is true. Cynthia and I are engaged and
have plans for a committment ceremony in the next couple of years.)
"Oh, great! Is he here tonight?"
I chuckled a bit and said, "Yes, she's standing right over there," and pointed
again to Cynthia.
Melissa looked, grabbed my arm and screeched, "REALLY?? Oh, that's SO COOL!
ANN!" She gestured frantically to her friend. "Ann! Joy's getting married to
that nice girl over there!" and waved her arms in Cynthia's direction.
Ann, who was even drunker than Melissa, screamed and threw her arms around me.
"I'M SO HAPPPYYYYY for you!" she wailed. "So have you set a date yet? Are you
going to have the wedding in Colorado? Is your sister going to be your maid of
honor?" I shook my head and laughed, trying to get a word in edgewise.
"Ooohhhh, I just have to tell you this." Ann grabbed my arm and looked very
serious. "Joy, I just think Ellen Degeneres is the FUNNIEST WOMAN ON EARTH! I
LOVE her!"
I nearly fell on the floor laughing.
It was all anti-climactic from there. Really.
-- marcie