Who are you WITH?
When you have the opportunity to crash a stranger’s high school reunion, you don’t pass it by. I can’t say no to things like this because they are just Heaven’s little blessings coming down to make a regular night way more interesting.
One night some girlfriends and I went out to dinner at Henry's, our favorite restaurant. The table next to ours had a rather large party. Two guys that looked like they just left the gym and tanning bed (and probably did some laundry) in bedazzled Ed Hardy gear were checking out our table.
A girl stumbled out of the bathroom and pushed her way past them, and sat right down with us. She acted as though she had been drinking since the previous Tuesday.
After a conversation that left me wondering, we found out that she belonged upstairs in the party room, where her high school reunion was taking place.
“You girls should definitely come upstairs and party with us,” she slurred.
“Isn’t there like, a check-in or something?”
“Who cares?” she leaned in closer and whispered to us, “The guys up there are so hot. And rich. And they would love you girls...trust me.”
Morgan asked, “Which reunion is this?”
“Class of 1989, Wheeler. I’ll be looking for you!”
She got up and left us, with the bill for the drink she just ordered.
After minimal deliberation, we decided that we needed to make it up there ASAP, even though we graduated elementary school in 1989.
We finished dinner, marched ourselves up there, and headed straight to the dance floor. We wasted no time in trying to blend in and act as 1989-normal as possible. We were noticed not only because all four of us just barreled in three hours late, but also because we obviously were recognized by...no one.
A guy with a boating shirt and fisherman hat walked directly up to Simone. We got nervous.“Oh, my god! What in the world have you been up to? You look amazing.”
Simone darted her eyes at us as she said, “Hey there...you!” We saw her look down at his nametag. “Oh, wow...Jeff! You look great too. What’s up...fella?!”
“No, you first,” he continued.
“Well, I’ve become very...spiritual since everything that happened.”
I had to grab a glass of wine before I lost it. I looked around for anyone.
“Celeste, where is Morgan?”
“Getting her picture made with Nelson.”
“Who’s Nelson?”
“Exactly.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Kari, Nelson was on yearbook staff. Get with the program. He asked you to prom and you said ‘no way’ and he was devastated for hours.”
Jeff opened up his conversation to the group.
“Did you girls get some of the cake? Heather made it! Go get some,” then Jeff started giggling to himself and continued, “That’s what she said!”
Simone looked at us and then back at Jeff. “Heather always made the best cakes!”
Simone hates cake. And obviously doesn’t know Heather.
I turned around and a guy came up to me who was grinning from ear to ear. “How in the hell are you??”
“Great! How are you?” I asked.
“What in the hell have you been up to,” he asked me as he punched my arm like I just scored a goal.
“Not sure where to start! Let’s see, finished up at Cornell, and did psychology research over in...Hawaii. Hawaii taught me a lot about myself. Surfing, tiki bar serving, you know, the ‘yoush.’”
I think over the course of that evening I was an ER Nurse, a professor, and an astronaut.
We got involved in all of our favorites: A Dance Off, The Train, The Cupid Shuffle, and Electric Slide. We continued talking to people and making up stuff that we had been doing for the past 20 years. Little did they know that 20 years prior to tonight, I was caring for our 5th grade class hamster.
The class photog announced that it was time for some group pictures. We were hopping in photos with various groups, and finally with the entire group in front of the "Class of ‘89" sign which would later become a Facebook profile picture.
We got the soccer team to do a round of shots on Nelson. Then we had to do another one because Jeff didn’t want to be in the “shots” picture because he just finished nine months in rehab. We were going to be all over their website and I couldn't wait.
During the dance off I got a little nervous because everyone was standing in a circle clapping along with the song. When one person would get in the middle, the circle would chant "Go Tommy, Go Tommy" and Tommy did a little dance and then the next person went. We were all making eye contact with each other because we would have to wait for the crowd to say the person's name once before we could join in, hoping no one would notice. My turn arrived, and no one knew my name. Thank goodness the girls yelled my name first, then everyone else joined in, looking confused.
After about one hour of this, three ladies who appeared to be on the Class Reunion Board of Directors approached us. Their hair was styled the same way, and they stepped in unison.
"Um, excuse me, who are you with?"
We all stood there for a minute, hoping someone else would answer her question.
Simone looked at her and said, “We are with Karen.”
The Reunion Nazis stared at us blankly. Thank God Nelson ran up, sweating with excitement.
“They’re with me!!” he declared, a little too proudly.
“Who is with you?” she asked.
Nelson brushed the dirt off his shoulders and said, “All of them. We are in open relationships.”
The Reunion Nazis continued staring.
She looked right at me.
“Where are your armbands? They came in your registration packets.”
I did not break her stupid stare.
“Yeah. Who wants to wear that mess?” I asked. “We left them in the car. They really hinder some of our better dance moves.”
She kept staring. The committee walked away looking totally annoyed, and we decided it was time to make a run for it. We gathered our things and left in intervals. We laughed the whole way down the stairs, and the whole way home. They would be talking for weeks about us, and wouldn't even know our names.
