Go to your reunion, young one.

Saturday evening has come and gone. I've had some time, not nearly as much as you'd figure, to digest the evening. My one line summary -- the take-way from the ordeal -- for you dear readers is: Go to your reunion.

I am so glad that I did.

In high school, I wasn't popular in the traditonal sense. I certainly wasn't unpopular either. I had a core group of friends -- mostly from the swim team and it included about 6 - 10 of us at any given time -- and a few from other places. I was in this "gifted" group in Junior High and stayed friendly with most through high school, especially in the honors courses we shared. I also got sick in my junior year and shifted out of the honors courses and mixed with the reular folk -- who had so much more fun and for whom school wasn't so miserable. I also had some friends from church -- typical Catholic obligatory stuff, not "Church is my Teen Life" stuff, and some friends from the yearbook staff. All this is to justify, to explain, that yeah, I had some friends. People knew me.

The reunion decision was tough, but my best friend and I decided we'd rather go and be miserable then miss something like this. We called up two others from "our core group" that we still see periodically and they agreed. The four of us would go, along with some dates. One husband. One girlfriend. One gentleman friend -- more to come.

Prior to the reunion, we went to visit spawn. The married SoCal couple popped one out over the summer, and since the little one can't hold her liquor, she wouldn't be at the reunion. We went to visit. It was fun.

We met at the house of someone still living in town and prepartied. My gentleman friend looked dapper. I looked liquored. We rolled into the cars.

The crowd was thin and clearly I was the only 'mo in the room. Who cares. We stopped for a picture for some memory book that no one was buying. This picture will be awkward for some time. More to come on that too.

Straight to the bar. This wasn't so important as I brought along a flask. I guess I needed something to mix or chase with. I got it. Now let's see who we'll meet. Girl who I went to college with her sister and thus constantly confuse their names. Check. Pretend high school girl crush who is over six feet tall and is wearing 5-inch heels. Check. Delinquent who got me drunk at 15 and her new fiance who was my boss for about 5 years. Check. They were all here. And they were fun.

The reunion itself -- the meal, entertainment, facilities -- was lame. The people were awesome. We left the country club around 11 and hit a bar near the mall. They closed at midnight so we moved to another. They closed at 2 and we decided that the reminiscing was over. Now everyone can go back to their cars and talk about how Brian is now a big, ol' fag.