So it happened on Saturday night and I didn’t go. I didn’t even think twice about not going to the actual reunion. It was $85 for the “early bird offer” for a chicken dinner at a restaurant owned by one of my snotty classmates in Claremont! Really?? I don’t think so! Especially if the best the reunion committee can do is send out an invite on Facebook to only about 100 of the 450 students that were in my class! The people I would have loved to hangout with and catch up were not going; most of them were on the invite list even though they are on Facebook!
So why did I get so tripped up about the “all class reunion” that was happening on Friday night? Well, for one, it was free and you can’t beat a price like that. And for another, there would be people who were not from the class of 1992 there. I have to state for the record that most of my friends in high school were not in my actual class. Most were from ’91 or ’93. Most of the people in my class were stuck up skinny blonde kids who made fun of me in junior high. When I got to high school and was allowed the freedom of having classes and friends in different grades than myself is when I started to feel less smothered. I was able to talk about bands with kids who were juniors when I was a freshman. I saw that there was a world outside of the annoying kids in my grade. People that dyed their hair and wore doc martens (okay, not a lot of them, but there were some)! And this was my saving grace for the next four years of my life. Finding people who were a little like me, and didn’t make fun of me by calling me fat and ugly. People who told me about new bands and wore REM t-shirts.
There was no guarantee that any of them were going either, even if some of them have moved back to Claremont to raise their families, but at free it was worth a shot. So I was torn, between going to Casa de Salsa on Friday night, or going to an Etsy craft night in Hollywood. I decided to go to the craft night instead. And from looking at the photos that were posted on Facebook afterwards, I made a good decision. What I saw were 38 year olds who were “socs” in high school singing kareoke at a bar and other people mingling in a small crowd. Not a very welcoming environment for an “anti-soc” like me. That is what we called ourselves, the “anti-socs”. The opposite of the “horseshoe” loving jocks and drill team members who liked nothing better than blocking people’s path from one quad to another between class exchange time. The ones who held hands while walking down the hall and made out in front of lockers. Ewww…. The ones who wore red and pink on Valentine’s Day so we decided to wear black in protest and call it VD Day instead. If any of my “anti-soc” friends were going, maybe I would have gone, but most of them weren’t invited.