Twisty: Reunion

My, how time has flown!

It’s the Tuesday night after my college reunion.

Keeping a Blog is a great thing. Knowing that I plan to sit down at my li’l Gateway laptop forces me to think things out and distill information. As far as this reunion goes, writing this Blog is helping me to sort out the myriad of emotions that come along with reunions of any kind.

So, let me break it down into the lessons I learned from going to my five-year college reunion:

#1.) My body can’t take as much partying as it used to.
I’m only now beginning to recover from the crazy weekend. Yeah, we had a few late nights. Yeah, we had a cocktail or two. However, why is it that I feel like I’ve been run over repeatedly by the “A” train? I remember hauling my broken butt out of bed Monday morning thinking: How the hell did I do this for four years straight?

#2.) My patented “Hawaiian Punch & Advil” cure still works wonders.
Next time you’re hung over, have two Advils and two cans of Hawaiian Punch. Perhaps it has to do with the headache-fighting, orange-coated power of those non-prescription wonder pills? Maybe it has to do with red, hydrating powers of this sugary “juice product?” Regardless, it somehow has always worked for me. Perhaps it will for you too.

#3.) Dorms are icky.
I don’t want to talk smack about my alma mater, which is known for its beautiful campus. However, not every building can be a winner. The five-year alums stayed in the not-yet-renovated buildings. (I suppose the “Powers that Be” thought we recent graduates, used to earning low wages and living in squalor, would find these dwellings downright palatial.) These dorms, which now house freshmen, were once home to a number of different fraternities. As such, they’ve seen their share of use and abuse. Admittedly they were quaint on the first day. After that, I longed for the comfort of the local budget hotel.

#4.) No “Back to College” experience is complete without some illicit nookie.
My newly married status takes me off the market. (No complaints from me. Skeezy bar boys be gone!) However, my friend, Viv*, helped us meet the sex quota and gave us gossip fodder for, like, the next two days at least!

#5.) Long John Silvers is hands-down the fast-food king!
Even though our school had fantastic food, we would still dash off campus occasionally for some greasy goodies. This chain, alas, is not in the Jersey area. As such, we had to indulge while we had the opportunity. On Saturday afternoon, while nursing a wee hangover, Sarah and I introduced McGuire and Viv to the deep-fried goodness of the “Chicken Plank.” Mmmm… Thank goodness this place doesn’t have a chain in my area or I would need to buy me a tent dress or two.

#6.) No one has really changed all that much at all.
The first night you’re back on campus, you’re misled by the fancy jobs and nice threads of your former school chums. (“Wow, he’s an attorney? Last time I saw him, he was puking in the Recycling Bin!” & “TJ’s actually wearing shoes**?”) However, by day two, you realize that everyone has their exact same quirks – some funny, some annoying.

#7.) I still stink at beer games.
Feeling all saucy, I challenged McGuire to a game of Beirut. Being that we spent most of our time chasing the ping-pong ball around the floor, I’m guessing that in the end we each ingested approximately one pint of beer and about three pounds of floor sweepings. I swear that I’ll be coughing up hair balls until next year.

#8.) In the end, you gravitate towards your tried and true gal pals.
While it was great seeing all the old faces and places, at the end of the day I most looked forward to putting on snuggies and chatting it up with Sarah and Viv.

Well, that’s about all the scoop I can muster tonight. I’m pooped!

* I mention a number of folks quite a bit on the Blog. I’ve added the usual suspects to the new “Cast of Characters” section on the ride-side tool bar. As always, most names are changed for privacy purposes.

** I’m all about comfort. Back in the day, I used to walk around in a fuzzy pair of rubber-soled slippers. I called them my “Bavarian Wool Clogs.” Sarah still teases me mercilessly about it.