So. Rad.

You guys! You guys! My 20th high school reunion weekend was Tewtally Awesome! I would further describe it as bitchin'! This is a seriously long post so please skip it if you're in an impatient mood.

I flew to Arizona on Friday morning, but early. Lucked into breakfast with an old friend from college days, who is making the world safer from terrorists the old fashioned way- building legal cases against them. However impressively grown-up he is now, and even after not seeing him in at least a dozen years, it only took about a minute to feel like I was talking to the college era version of him. Funny (good funny) how that works.

Back to the airport to pick up my home girl E., then off to Tempe for a family lunch. It was so good to see them- I always have a dual experience with my family, the moment of yes, they are me, I am them, this is where I come from, of course, and then the Wow do I not so much fit in here. Stupid adulthood with all its complicated ideas and whatnot.

We had a room at the hotel hosting the reunion events, so back up to Paradise Valley for some relaxation (ahem, cheap Riesling) in the room in advance of the Friday night cocktail party. I had a rule for myself on this reunion, based on my behavior at the ten year, and it went a little like this: Drink less. I still drank, though, I'm just saying.

The Friday event was, in a word, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Good turnout, lame appetizers, cash bar. I spent some time talking to a teacher I never had (who tried to convince me I was in one of his business classes?), and kept polling people on who would be coming the following night, so I could sign their Saturday dance card and move on. There were a few people I wasn't sure I would see that did show up- yea! I am not sure whether it was just the delight of being at a party I hadn't organized (sad, J.), or the whiskey and ginger ales, but I had a really fantastic time.

Saturday morning we managed to get all sunscreened up and head out to a local mountain trail for a hike. I had read that the summit trail on this mountain (we used to hike it a lot when I was first in AZ as a teenager) is the most heavily hiked in the nation or something, and I can attest that we were getting out of someone's way about once every two minutes. Rarely was it the other way around, I'm afraid. It's a steep hike. But the top affords quite a nice view of the valley, and some refreshing gusty winds. We also saw some badass lizards, who seemed not the least bit intimidated by the Manhattan sidewalk crowds of hikers.



If I felt my age a bit on the hike, I felt it in a different way at the place we picked for breakfast, cleverly named The Breakfast Club (and where you can get smart-alecky black t-shirts with quotes from the movie emblazoned on them). The food was fine (though seriously, who offers you eggs with toast on a menu and then only gives you ONE piece of toast?), but I kept thinking grouchily that the music could really go down a notch. Oops! Fogey alert!

In the afternoon we headed to a spa near the hotel. It was a swanky place, but so kitschily decorated that it was hard not to smile the whole time. Also, in addition to the big "relaxation space" with comfy chairs and high end chewy granola bar snacks and a wacky Van Goghish sky-painted glass ceiling, there was a little pool and hot tub in the side yard, that we were welcome to use (though we did not). Between that pool and the matching tan seersucker robes, it was a little like a kind of groovy cult we had temporarily joined.


Anyway, massage (ahhhh), facial (ooooh), manicure (enh), and after a quick but meaningful junket to Jack in the Box, back to the hotel to tart up for the big dance.

(In case you were wondering, yes, we were completely overdressed. And we didn't really care.)

In short, the dinner was not bad, actually, the group photo was silly, but kind of funny, I guess, the DJ had his year-range about right, we got a few dances in (why do people always bring up Elaine from Seinfeld when I dance?!), and the conversations were fun, fun, fun. When the event ended, we went to the lobby bar, when that place closed down we went to the hot tub (feet only, yo). I had a genuinely hard time heading back to my room at 2:30 or whenever it was.

I am giving this whole play by play in place of what was the heart, the essence of this weekend and why it meant so much to me. What a nice example of my writerly shortcoming (in turn maybe an example of my life-living shortcoming)- it's easy to write in the breezy voice about the things that go on, but one of the points of writing is to help you think about things, to help you figure them out. I know it would take me too long to get a post up on this weekend if I took the time to really write out what was so striking and emotional and wonderful about it (and maybe that thoughtful, reflective person could resist the urge to insert that perhaps I was so struck and emotional because I was drunk and sleep deprived!).

But for fun I'll take a breezy crack at it and say that first, when you (I) go through life wondering how much of yourself to show to the people you meet, and then come back into a group where the people more or less already know that you, from way before, wow! It's so easy! Second, you get a chance to ponder the threads you dropped, directions your life could have taken, and to appreciate in turn the ones you held on to. Third, you get the people, the nice, funny, interesting people who surprise you, or turn out to be wonderfully, exactly as you remember them.

I don't know if this assessment can explain the happy, emotionally split-open feeling I'm having even a few days later, and I'm guessing not everyone has the same experience at their high school reunion. I haven't even mentioned the wonder of spending the weekend with someone who knew me since I was thirteen (and has liked me all that time), sitting on a beautiful resort room patio for great long stretches, reading magazines and lounging in a chair, and participating in no childcare whatsoever (thanks, Dad!). Reunion weekend, I have a big crush on you. Call me!