20th high school reunion tomorrow. It's no big deal really, as I wasn't much a fan of high school.
I played sports, but didn't fit into the jock crowd. I took accelerated classes, but didn't excel academically. School politics weren't my thing either - I never liked meetings, or for that matter, people.
A crew I kind of melded into was a group of underachievers who really didn't give a shit what anyone else thought of them. They weren't bad dudes by today's standards - just an impassive bunch who smoked clove cigarettes and drank Pfeiffer while playing cribbage on Friday nights.
One of them ran for Class President our junior or senior year as the lone member of the Apathy Party. He gave his speech in a black trench coat and concluded by announcing that he could promise that things would be better under his administration, but wouldn't because he just didn't care. The audience, of course, erupted in wild applause. A flustered school administrator begged us to take the election seriously.
Most attendees will probably be the pink polo and Girbaud jeans folks who drove Daddy's Saab, but you never know.
One thing I do know is that it's been 20 years since graduation. Thank God.
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Because SUVs don't kill people -- the idiots who drive them do.
4 comments:
What does it mean that I wore pink polo shirts and yet still hung with the trench coat crowd?
Umm. . . does it mean that Mary H picked out all your clothes Eric?
I dunno, I was very much "too cool for school" myself in high school. In retrospect, maybe I should have been more of a joiner. On the other hand, boys in trench coats and converse all stars sure were cute.
You're a complex individual, Eric. For a guy whose mother picked out his clothes, that is.
I wish that I would have gone to minnetonka. That is the school of dreams. Nothign else compares.
I'll tell Smoot.
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