Party like it's 1999
This year will be my 5 year college reunion. I have these feelings of anticipation and trepidation resulting in expectation which is probably a bad thing (see my entry for February 13). I wonder what people will look like, what they'll be doing, and what they'll think of me which is ironic since I usually don't care much what people think of me. People will reminisce and regret and wish they spent more time on their diet before showing up. So my weekend in San Francisco felt a lot like a college reunion.
First, how about meeting with a college professor for lunch with full discussion of the current class subject: the trial of Dame Alice Kyteler, a medieval Irish witch, or so they say. It is nice to have discussions with an intellectual after years of not being in school. It reminds you that at one time, you could have those thought provoking and deep conversations on anything and that now, you can't.
When class is over, it is time to play, so how about dinner with friends I haven't seen from 2 weeks to 9 nine years ago but with a full on bar. Or, how about 4 bars? It was just like a night out in Palo Alto except in the Mission. We ate, we drank, we were obnoxious and funny and met new people and made funny poses in front of very interesting murals of a topless woman bartender at the back bar of the Mission Bar. I bought two bottles of champagne for our group to celebrate Susan and Damien's recent engagement (another sign I'm aging and another singleton, lost to the breach). People flaked or missed trains which resulted in us eating an hour and a half later.
And then, the bars. We went to Art for coffee to wake ourselves up and meet up with Melissa who I unjustly lost on our way to Club Latin Americain where, after many cell phone updates to Steve, Nate finally got in to drink himself silly and Shanna and Liz surprised me. This was followed by the aforementioned mural at the Mission Bar when Nate ditched us for the Elbow Room. Ahhh! Just like school! It was down to Susan, Damien, Shanna and her boy, Steve, and me by the time last call came at 2am, so we stumbled out into the brisk Bay Area air and headed home to Sandman Land.
Much like a Saturday morning back in school, I slept in late due to the long night before. I was up in time to fill my day with the crab festival though I mostly ate octopus and oysters, coordinate dinner for 8 people and then, what night wouldn't be complete without a frat party? Okay, it wasn't exactly a frat party. It was a house party with the cream of the Silicon Valley crop: programmers, engineers, and techies to the max—all trying a little too hard and not knowing what to do with themselves. It was a great house and the jacuzzi was very popular. It wouldn't be a real party unless the fuzz came to break it up which they did under the guise of bigamy or some random statute they thought of, at which point we piled ourselves back into Tom's tiny sports car and headed back to the city.
After my latest jaunt to San Francisco, I'm a bit more hesitant to attend my college reunion. Honestly, the people I want to see are the people I probably keep in touch with. Do I really want to know what happened to that guy I dated freshman year or whether he finally came out of the closet? Or what about the girl down the hall who cursed me out for wanting grapes in my dining hall? Or reminisce about my underwear that got stolen along with my dirty laundry (who does that and do they actually wash it and then wear it?). What about my draw mates who for one reason or another wanted to decapitate me with a rusty, dull knife? Or the boy I pined over but lost my chance (rather, I probably threw it away) who now thinks I'm the scourge of the Earth (or worse, is indifferent towards my existence) so I can relive that very exciting time? With all the changes on my campus, it probably wouldn't even have the same feeling as when I was there. And the people you really want to see, the weirdos who would make reunion worthwhile probably won't even show up. Damn you all! If there was a list of people that told us who was coming and whether or not they would be performing that night (either improv or prepared) it would make the trip more rewarding and probably more enticing. I want Chris Carey to re-enact his tryout for the Tree (notice I didn't say relive Big Game when he got trampled by disgruntled Berkeley students) and maybe even Andy Bradley in his Chariots of Fire run around the claw.
I guess reunions are meant for misty-eyed moments and reminiscing about the younger, fitter, more popular you with more hair. But I have issues marrying myself too much to the past and would much rather move on toward the future. You can always look back and feel regret over that boy or girl, that missed moment, that lost opportunity, but I'm a firm believer in everything happens (or doesn't happen) for a reason. And regret is a dirty word. I try not to regret anything and take as many opportunities as are presented to me. Carpe diem! Carpe diem! I've noticed with age, the desire to be adventurous and take chances wanes and people try to be more calculating, though that could just be the logistical programmer in me. I'm trying to break free, to be passionate, to say what's on my mind and rebirth the me that I used to be—open like a book and honest like Simon Cowell though maybe less abrasive. Maybe that's what reunions are really for: to remind you of how full of life and idealistic we were about the future and give us a jumpstart to do something different and follow the passions we left behind for responsibility and retirement plans. Whatever the case, I still advise everyone to get a good personal trainer and work off the pounds you might have gained since graduating—if nothing else, people will judge you by that.
First, how about meeting with a college professor for lunch with full discussion of the current class subject: the trial of Dame Alice Kyteler, a medieval Irish witch, or so they say. It is nice to have discussions with an intellectual after years of not being in school. It reminds you that at one time, you could have those thought provoking and deep conversations on anything and that now, you can't.
When class is over, it is time to play, so how about dinner with friends I haven't seen from 2 weeks to 9 nine years ago but with a full on bar. Or, how about 4 bars? It was just like a night out in Palo Alto except in the Mission. We ate, we drank, we were obnoxious and funny and met new people and made funny poses in front of very interesting murals of a topless woman bartender at the back bar of the Mission Bar. I bought two bottles of champagne for our group to celebrate Susan and Damien's recent engagement (another sign I'm aging and another singleton, lost to the breach). People flaked or missed trains which resulted in us eating an hour and a half later.
And then, the bars. We went to Art for coffee to wake ourselves up and meet up with Melissa who I unjustly lost on our way to Club Latin Americain where, after many cell phone updates to Steve, Nate finally got in to drink himself silly and Shanna and Liz surprised me. This was followed by the aforementioned mural at the Mission Bar when Nate ditched us for the Elbow Room. Ahhh! Just like school! It was down to Susan, Damien, Shanna and her boy, Steve, and me by the time last call came at 2am, so we stumbled out into the brisk Bay Area air and headed home to Sandman Land.
Much like a Saturday morning back in school, I slept in late due to the long night before. I was up in time to fill my day with the crab festival though I mostly ate octopus and oysters, coordinate dinner for 8 people and then, what night wouldn't be complete without a frat party? Okay, it wasn't exactly a frat party. It was a house party with the cream of the Silicon Valley crop: programmers, engineers, and techies to the max—all trying a little too hard and not knowing what to do with themselves. It was a great house and the jacuzzi was very popular. It wouldn't be a real party unless the fuzz came to break it up which they did under the guise of bigamy or some random statute they thought of, at which point we piled ourselves back into Tom's tiny sports car and headed back to the city.
After my latest jaunt to San Francisco, I'm a bit more hesitant to attend my college reunion. Honestly, the people I want to see are the people I probably keep in touch with. Do I really want to know what happened to that guy I dated freshman year or whether he finally came out of the closet? Or what about the girl down the hall who cursed me out for wanting grapes in my dining hall? Or reminisce about my underwear that got stolen along with my dirty laundry (who does that and do they actually wash it and then wear it?). What about my draw mates who for one reason or another wanted to decapitate me with a rusty, dull knife? Or the boy I pined over but lost my chance (rather, I probably threw it away) who now thinks I'm the scourge of the Earth (or worse, is indifferent towards my existence) so I can relive that very exciting time? With all the changes on my campus, it probably wouldn't even have the same feeling as when I was there. And the people you really want to see, the weirdos who would make reunion worthwhile probably won't even show up. Damn you all! If there was a list of people that told us who was coming and whether or not they would be performing that night (either improv or prepared) it would make the trip more rewarding and probably more enticing. I want Chris Carey to re-enact his tryout for the Tree (notice I didn't say relive Big Game when he got trampled by disgruntled Berkeley students) and maybe even Andy Bradley in his Chariots of Fire run around the claw.
I guess reunions are meant for misty-eyed moments and reminiscing about the younger, fitter, more popular you with more hair. But I have issues marrying myself too much to the past and would much rather move on toward the future. You can always look back and feel regret over that boy or girl, that missed moment, that lost opportunity, but I'm a firm believer in everything happens (or doesn't happen) for a reason. And regret is a dirty word. I try not to regret anything and take as many opportunities as are presented to me. Carpe diem! Carpe diem! I've noticed with age, the desire to be adventurous and take chances wanes and people try to be more calculating, though that could just be the logistical programmer in me. I'm trying to break free, to be passionate, to say what's on my mind and rebirth the me that I used to be—open like a book and honest like Simon Cowell though maybe less abrasive. Maybe that's what reunions are really for: to remind you of how full of life and idealistic we were about the future and give us a jumpstart to do something different and follow the passions we left behind for responsibility and retirement plans. Whatever the case, I still advise everyone to get a good personal trainer and work off the pounds you might have gained since graduating—if nothing else, people will judge you by that.
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