monogodo

I decided to split the previous post. I felt it was too long and rambling.

I went back for my 5-year reunion. When I arrived at the bar where we were meeting for drinks, it was late afternoon, and the sun was shining brightly. The inside of the bar was dark. After the door closed behind me, I paused to allow my eyes to adjust, and to look around for someone I knew. I was able to see that everyone looked toward the door as I entered, to see if I was one of their classmates. Apparently they didn't recognize me, because everyone went back to what they were doing. When my eyes adjusted, I headed over to some friends I recognized. As I was about half-way there, Jackie realized who I was, and yelled "monogodo!" (She didn't yell my name, she actually yelled 'monogodo.' Monogodo was a nickname I'd acquired my Freshman year. By the time I graduated, very few people called me that. At the time she yelled it, I hadn't heard it in 4+ years.)

I ordered a beer and joined my classmates. Chris & Karl & I got caught up with each other. They asked what I was doing, and I told them I was a bike mechanic. They said that was cool. They asked if I rode, and I told them yes, that I had 3 bikes, one of which was in the back of my truck in the parking lot. They looked confused. I then realized they though that 'bike mechanic' meant 'motorcycle mechanic.' When I clarified that I meant bicycle mechanic, one of them said, "oh, that's cool, too." I thought to myself, "fuck you, that's cool, too." As the evening wore on, I found myself responding to queries of what I did with, "I'm a bicycle mechanic, but I'm happy." I hated that I had to justify what I did. At one point in the evening, as I was talking with Jill, I told her that I was a bicycle mechanic. Jackie, who was rather drunk at this point, mis-overheard and incredulously stated, "you're President of a bank?"

The next night was the actual reunion dinner. Two of my close friends weren't going to be there, and the third, Eric, as far as I knew was in Kuwait or Saudi Arabia, fighting in Desert Storm. Imagine my surprise when I saw him walk into the restaurant. Turns out his unit had just been sent back to Germany from the Gulf, and, since they had to wait for new tanks to arrive, the Army sent them home on leave. His flight had just landed about 1.5 hours earlier. We ended up having a great time.

I skipped my 10-year reunion. It was set up as a casual pot-luck affair at a park (to be family-friendly). I had no problem with that. What I had a problem with was that it was going to cost $35, I had to bring a dish-to-pass, and I'd have to bring my own beer. Screw that.

I went to my 15-year reunion. None of my close friends did. It was kinda funny, when I went to sign in at the dinner, I got there at the same time as one of my female classmates. Jill was running the table and assumed that I was the husband of the woman next to me, because she didn't recognize me. I don't think I've changed much since HS (other than putting on weight). I was unemployed at the time, and living off of my cashed-out 401k, and had yet to get a college degree. Again, I didn't live up to their expectations of me. I had a good time, though.

In a way, I look forward to going to my 20-year reunion. I also kind of dread it. I dread having to justify not having a degree. I dread being looked down on because I haven't lived up to someone elses' expectations of me. I look forward to seeing some of the people I actually got along with. I look forward to introducing my wife to my friends.