What a Long Strange Trip It's Been

When I graduated from Fallbrook High School in 1993, I had visions of what it would be like to come back for my ten year reunion. In all of these visions I was, of course, a very successful individual. In some cases I was a published and widely-read author. In other cases, I was a famous stand-up comedian. Sometimes I envisioned myself as a college professor, or a popular high school teacher. In each of these cases I was, of course, accompanied by my beautiful and equally successful wife whom I had met while living in Europe. We, of course, had two children, both of whom excelled in school and were the envy of all their classmates. We lived in a modest four bedroom home out in the countryside. The extra bedroom had been converted into a small little office where I could write while gazing out at the rolling hills covered with snow. Our black lab, Tralfaz, would be curled up at my feet while our cat, Mr. Peterson, prowled for birds outside on the front lawn.

I never envisioned that in ten years time I'd be unmarried, unemployed and living in a squalid apartment in a neighborhood made up mostly of convalescent hospitals. I guess, technically, I'm not unemployed since I am a full time student living off of student loans. But that's beside the point.

Naturally, I was a little apprehensive about going to my ten year reunion. I was certain that I would show up and everybody would laugh at me as they drove up in their limousines, wearing millions of dollars of jewelry or expensive Armani suits. Several of them would snicker softly to themselves as I informed them that I was going to school to get a teaching credential.

"Teaching?" one of them might say, while slipping the bartender a hundred dollar tip. "How droll! I contemplated teaching...back before I made my first million."

Stopping only to frown at my shoes that I had so obviously purchased at Mervyn's, they would then politely excuse themselves and go join the throngs of successful people, leaving me alone with the fat, sweaty guy who works the night shift at Arby's. He and I would sit there making awkward small talk while he stuffed Ho-hos and Twinkies into his gaping mouth. He would occasionally point out some of the more attractive women there and lie about his sexual escapades with them. I would say nothing and silently curse the darkness as I stared across the dance floor at the girl whom I had obsessed over through all of high school. I'd try to get up enough nerve...try to walk over there and talk to her. But, just as I am about to stand up, one of my former classmates, who is the youngest person to ever make a billion dollars, would walk up to her and whisper something in her ear. They would both then look over at me. She would laugh...then place her arm in his as they made their way to the bar. Distraught, I would return to my seat and help myself to one of Fat Sweaty Guy's Twinkies.

I am pleased to say, however, that none of my fears were realized. Sure, I'm not exactly as far along in life as I hoped I would be. But, as I found out Saturday, neither were many of the people there. Some were unemployed. Some were in grad school. Some had fairly successful careers. Overall, the playing field seemed pretty equal. It does seem to me, however, that an inordinate amount of people from my graduating class are now married with children. I'm not sure, because I don't have statistics in front of me regarding how many people my age are married and have kids...but I'm sure that the concentration of such people at my reunion was far above the national average. This amount was so high that any single guys there could forget about the age old practice of hooking up with a former crush.

My former crush was there...and she was looking quite good. She is not, as a matter of fact, married...but she has been dating the same guy for the last five years. It was kind of funny, though. When I asked him how things were going between the two of them, he seemed to think everything was great and that there were wedding bells in their future. When I asked her, however, she did not seem to think too much of their future prospects. She said that things weren't going so well and that maybe it was time to move on. (So, of course, I got her e-mail and plan to stay in touch...just in case...)

What was most interesting to me was the fact that the rigid social hierarchy that existed in high school is now gone. People who, ten years ago, would not have even given me the time of day were now acting as if we were old friends. Back in high school I had been in sort of the mid-level of popularity. Most people knew me, and most people liked me. But they stopped short of inviting me to all of their cool American Pie type of parties. Which was fine with me because that wasn't really my scene. I think, at the time, a lot of the more popular students preferred to keep me relegated to "classroom friend" status or preferred to think of me as Guy We Invite Over When We Need Help With Trigonometry.

Because of the great amount of anxiety I discussed above, I did not make up my mind to go to the reunion until about 2:00 on Saturday afternoon. Since the reunion started at 6:00, I had to quickly get ready and make the almost three hour drive to the Westin Hotel at Horton Plaza in downtown San Diego. I'm actually really glad that I decided to go...the entire night was a lot of fun and all of my anxiety ended up being over nothing. I even won an award that night...the Brush With Greatness Award for the two years that I spent in the indirect employ of Steven Spielberg. That, of course, resulted in a flood of questions about my former job from several different people.

After the reunion was over, many of us made our way down to the hotel bar. I stayed there until about 1:45, when I decided that it was time to make the long drive home. It was a lot of fun...talking and hanging out with all these people whom I had not seen in ten years. I am rather looking forward to the twenty year reunion.