So the rest of the reunion festivities pretty much took their cue from the barbecue on Friday night. Although, one of my dearest friends from school, Christy, brought her baby to the picnic on Saturday. Her baby is almost 10 months old already, and I had been meaning to stop by for forever, so it was great to see them.
We spent the rest of the afternoon at my dad’s, where you know he grilled up some fine beef (a $75 tenderloin, no less) and we ate like kings. We loaded up for home, having decided to skip that evening’s dinner/dance and set out. On our way towards the highway, however, I had a change of heart and asked Tim if it would be OK if we stopped in for “just a minute.”Â
Being the wonderful, understanding husband that he is, he agreed. I quickly changed into my kicky dress (yes, in the car. I’m a fabulous quick-change artist in the car. Don’t ask.) and we set out for the Holiday Inn.
Well, we’re movin’ on up…
Of course, by the time we reached the Holiday Inn, Auggie had completely zonked out, so Tim stayed in the car with him (and my iBook, on which he could watch the Rushmore DVD). I went in, grabbed a beer, and started going around the room, talking to old friends.
It’s funny, if you asked me whether I am shy or outgoing, I would say shy without a moment’s hesitation. But anyone that knows me knows that I’m not really shy at all. I can talk with just about anyone, at any time. I love talking to people. And that’s why I had a such a great time that night, chatting with people I hadn’t seen in 10 years, as an hour slipped away even faster than my Budweiser.
There was a whole table full of classmates-turned-teachers, along with a guy who owns his own excavating business (Tim’s question: “Excavating what?”Â) and another guy who sells auto parts. We all put our heads together, trying to remember the name of the girl at the next table who looked so familiar, but who we just couldn’t place. Sorry, Michelle!
I moved on to another table where my sixth-grade boyfriend Mike sat with his wife (his high school sweetheart Holly) and heard about their two kids and the wreck that nearly killed Mike over a year ago. Best part of the story (except the part about where he lived, of course): Mike’s four-year-old daughter’s angry question, upon seeing her daddy the night after the accident, ‘Daddy, why weren’t you wearing your seat belt?!’
There were several other people there that it was great to see and I am so glad that I didn’t miss the chance to catch up with them. But my beer was empty, my bed at home was calling my name, and I had had about enough of the Class of ’93. Plus, if I stayed any longer, I would have had to have talked to Matt, and I really just did not want to waste another minute of my life on that wanker.
Viva la ten-year grudges!