[Given that I got a severe case of diarrhea of the keyboard for this post, I have decided to split it up into two parts, to hopefully keep all of you from stabbing your eyeballs out trying to read the whole thing. I thank you.]
Well, I had my 20 year high school reunion this past weekend – and suffice it to say, it was the highlight of my life up to, and including this very moment.
Okay, that might be a stretch, but it was still a good time – despite having to come to grips once and for all that it has been 20 years since I graduated high school and I am officially becoming an old fart.
In addition to facing my own mortality, I also got to cram about a week’s worth of reunion activities, family visits and drinking into a two-day stretch. Sandwich that around two enthralling 9-hour drives and you have the recipe for a treat that plows through your innards with the ferocity of 1,000 bulldozers – not at all unlike the Subway Club that I got from the truck stop Subway that would wreak havoc on my innards early Friday morning.
But it wasn’t all drinking binges and bloody stool during my time away. Here are some of the highlights of our trip.
We got off to a shaky start: We had initially planned to be on the road around 1:00 PM on Thursday. However, due to various work obligations and unexpected visits from neighbors – we didn’t leave the house until around 1:30. My wife realized that she forgot her purse about 15 minutes later – just slipping in under my self-imposed 20 minute deadline for turning back to get any forgotten items – so we turned around to grab that. Thus, our official departure came just after 2:00. Then, add having to stop twice right after that for gas and my ill-fated Subway trip – and we really didn’t get going until close to 2:30. Yay.
Subsequently, we didn’t get in until a little after 11:00 – which would have been fine, except of course we then spent the next 90 minutes or so chatting with my dad and step-mom, which didn’t get us into bed until around 1:00 AM. That would end up being the earliest I got to bed the entire time we were there.
Friday was fairly low-key during the day (with the exception of the case of the dumps I got, thanks to my trichinosis laden Subway sandwich) – just some errand running and hanging out at my dad’s place – which was our headquarters for the trip. I am thankful for this, since I’m fairly sure had I not gotten this reprieve, I would be dead, and subsequently, not writing this right now.
Friday night was our pre-reunion get together. My wife made the command decision that she would forego coming out with me, in part to save my dad and step-mom from having to look after the kids two nights in a row, and in part to rest up for Saturday night. This would turn out to be the smartest decision she’s ever made – eclipsing marrying me by a substantial margin.
I, on the other hand, was not as smart. As is usually the case with me, I go out with the intention of not drinking all that much and end up a slobbering, slurring mess – which, as an aside – has earned me the nickname “Mr. Mumbles” when I’m out drinking with my friends.
To be fair – I thought I would be in the clear. I loaded up with a good amount of pizza before I left, plus I alternated between beer and club soda for most of the evening, which has been my years-old sure-fire solution for going out on the town without ended up a sloppy, drunken mess.
Unfortunately for me, I failed to take into account the fact that I am now 38 and not 18, and that the drinks affect me much differently than they did back in the day. Back then, when I got drunk – I knew it. I would then either be smart enough to quit drinking and sober up; or continue drinking, puke, then continue drinking some more.
Now when I get drunk, it happens much more subtly – at least to me. I usually can go all night and feel just fine… until I pass out with my pants around my ankles while sitting on the toilet. This is where my wife comes into play, as she usually sees how buffoonish I truly look, and is able to act accordingly and extricate me before I do too much damage to either of our reputations.
Without her there, I was able to drink until the party ended – somewhere around 2:00 AM. I made it home just fine – with the notable exception of my dad locking me out of the house – and got into bed seemingly good as new. Even my wife was surprised at how lucid I was.
Next morning, however, when I woke up and immediately felt as if I was going to t Technicolor yawn all over the place – it was clear to me that I may have had just a little more to drink than I had originally intended. And, although I was successful in not redecorating my father’s house with my vomit, the nauseous feeling hung with me for most of the day.
Once I got myself feeling moderately human again, it was time for more errand running, followed by a trip to visit my mom. She was helping my brother with a festival he was running, down in the little beach town by where I grew up. I knew this would make me feel a little bit better – because my brother Mike was running the festival and promised to take care of us. Plus, there would be the opportunity to people watch. And, allow me to tell you that this place is the pinnacle of people watching.
Needless to say, we weren’t disappointed. Among the highlights were at least a dozen folks with a tattoo-to-tooth ratio of 4-to-1; a very ordinary looking middle aged man walking around holding hands with a clearly annoyed, fairly hot chick at least half his age; at least three kids – somewhere in the 10-13 year old range – who weighed close to, if not over, 200 pounds eating funnel cakes; a man who was about 6-5 and weighed about 250, who was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, black jeans and had quite possibly the most impressive curly mullet I’ve ever seen; and an old woman who had a hairstyle that can be best describe as a combination between Gary Oldman’s hairdo in “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” and a military helmet.
It was quite a scene. If anything, it was a good primer to get me ready for the evening’s activities…
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