Why I Didn't Go To My High School Reunion

High School. Alone, those two words seem harmless enough. When someone says "school", you think of standing in a row, being herded like little lambs, as you walk into 1st Grade. Things like recess, hot lunch, Air Jordans, and Girbauds buzz around your head like happy little friends. Because almost all of us tend to have fond memories of the days where boogers belonged under desks, being a crossing guard carried real power, and it was cool to eat crayons...okay, maybe we made fun of that guy even back then, but you get the idea.

"High" on the other hand puts you into one of two groups. In Utah, it probably means that you are afraid of, or embrace heights. Anywhere else, it probably means something else...something that put a smile on every 7-11 cashier as a parade of munchie searchers cascaded through the doors. Only then would a slurpee, beef jerky, and some cigarette shaped candy seem to meet food pyramid guidelines so precisely.

But when you put the words together, something altogether frightening or wonderful happens. You harken back to the 3 or 4 years of pure, unadulterated fear or euphoria. Because High School never tends to fall somewhere in the middle. It's like Utah vs. BYU - everyone has a side, and the people that profess to want or own a "BYUtah" shirt are made fun of, regardless of age, maturity level, or socioeconomic standing. I, for one, don't look fondly at the High School days. Sure, there were moments - Debate team standing out more than anything else, but at a young age, I found myself brilliant in the realm of horrible timing. I thought the ripe time to remove myself from my established group of friends would be 9th grade. Yeah, that one worked out awfully well. Shun yourself from the people you have interacted with since the happy days of dodge ball and four square, and send yourself on a quest for new friends in the most backwards, clique-ish, stereotype creating environment on earth. Elisa, if you're listening...you married a slight idiot. Thanks for loving me anyway.

But this post isn't about my high school experience, or the opportunity to revisit those days for myself. This is about our experience last night. You see, I robbed the cradle by marrying a woman 3.5 years my younger, so Elisa's 10-year high school reunion reared its ugly head just this summer. Elisa wanted to go from the start - and I decided to be the dutiful husband and immediately instigating two tactics. 1) Profess complete commitment to support her in the desire to go 10 years back in time, realizing that this could pay dividends during football season, or for my birthday in October. 2) Start dropping little comments laced with sarcasm about how the reunion would be the second coming of the circus (including large mammal abuse and ridicule) so that Elisa MIGHT reconsider this desire. I apparently excel at neither...Elisa was sure I didn't want to go right up to the drive there and I don't think I'm getting a better present on my birthday.

Elisa did do me right in one way - she accepted an invitation to attend a pre-party at Bohemian Brewery to at least make the night a "buzzed" one. And with that, we were off to High School. Again.

Nearly 24 hours removed from the festivities, I see that I missed and slyly avoided the best and worst of high school by not heading to my own reunion. We'll start with what I missed. Because what I avoided still makes me giggle. I found myself a bit jealous of my wife, primarly during the pre-party (@Bohemian) and after-party (@SkyBox). I'm not sure even she knew that after 10 years, some friendships would appear stronger or actually possible when old strangers came together. Some of the highlights (and tips for your next reunion opportunity):

• If you're going to a pre-party, plan your entrance to coincide with an already arrived group that is just polishing off their first bottle of champagne. It conveniently moves you past the awkward conversations of "what looks good on the menu" and plops you right into conversation starters like "Once, I had diarrhea in a corn field."
• Order an appetizer and the largest pitcher of beer on the menu. It makes everything more funny, takes any residual "awkwardness" from your own mood, and allows you to freely observe a group of old friends revisit memories pure and long lasting like being shown a tattoo in a college class, the joys of a Senior Trip that involved a alcohol virgin hitting on an 80-year old, and the sisterhood created by the two "controlled" drinkers, bonded by their commitment to the fabled "pump and dump" principle.
• Even 10 years later, don't underestimate the power of peer pressure. Even individuals with the right state of mind to NOT go to the reunion can be persuaded to go anyway with the promise of sneaking in mini bottles to the actual event.
• Post-reunion, post emptied mini bottles, post regret at actually thinking attending the reunion was a smart idea, realize that buzzed, drunk, or sober people will still be hungry. Encourage them to go "all in" by ordering the world's largest plate of nachos, followed 5 minutes later by a burger the size of a small ham, with a standing order for a sundae waiting in the wings. That'll absorb the liquor!
• If offered said nachos from the over-achieving orderer, just take them. Otherwise, they are comfortable enough with you by now to start pointing at you and demanding consumption immediately...and you're slightly frightened that it may come to physical harm if you don't.
• Finally, when you're ready to wrap the night in a nice little bow, be sure to enjoy the fantastic combination of alcohol, food, friendship, and a server there just to enjoy watching the train wreck with a finale conversation starter involving a receipt and a female body part.
• In short, my sincere thanks to the group of pre & post party goers. You made the entire night worthwhile.

Of course, that's the highlights. The good parts. We haven't touched the reunion itself. And it was a good one...and by that, I mean a really, really bad one.

• Granted, this is Utah, but could it really be a good idea to have a survey at the party, immediately making those unmarried, unemployed, without children, or fond of the occassional "tat" feel like outcasts? This is what was accomplished by the Class of 2000. And it gets better.
• I would recommend against using said survey responses to give prizes. To the person that doesn't really understand what a "stinger pollenating a flower" really results in, $50 to LaCaille! I'm sure with the gaggle waiting in the car, you and the wife will have a lovely time.
• Let's have a gift card for the person that played the field for an entire three months after high school before tying the knot. She didn't even need to enroll at BYU! Another Cougar's dreams were created without that enrollment.
• For the person brave enough to get married most recently, let's provide them with outfits for the babies surely on their way. I mean, if they start now, they could be in the running for the $50 gift card at the 20-year reunion.
• I did appreciate the touch of having someone's children (or scout troop) man the payment desk and the name tag area. Nothing like writing your name on a piece of duct tape that says "the last 10 years have been good to us and to our reunion budget!"
• Moreover, kudos to teach the kids that the right and true thing to do is hunt down potential "non-payers" so that the experience can be a positive and fair one for all involved.
• On the subject of food, realize that $25 a pop can only go so far when we have Country Cleaner gift cards to give out. Make sure to have Cafe Rio cater the event with a serious lack of napkins, forks, rice, salad, or taste. This is what we call "stretching your money".
• Back to the awards - keep this in mind. If you're lucky enough to win, you could be taking home fabulous prizes as chewing gum, skittles, or the aforementioned Country Cleaner gift card. Man, those local businesses don't seem nearly as giving when its not for a football fundraiser!
• As the table of "outcasts" grows, be sure, as the hosts, to find subtle ways to keep the "good times a rolling!" Call numbers to win a prize, but then when an outcast wins, find another winner and send the outcast back to the table empty handed...and then proceed to award 25 more packs of gum to other winners.
• Look with disdain as desparate outcasts find creative ways to ration a small bottle of alcohol to "enhance" the strawberry banana punch!
• And more than anything, remind everyone of some inconvenient truths. The jerk 10 years ago still can handle that moniker. And everything that made High School "Hell School" 10 years ago, seems to travel through time to remind all involved that when everything changes, nothing really changes at all.

Was it all a bad experience? Of course not. The pre and post parties were fantastic, and the actual chance for an adult night out was immensely appreciated. But, in the end, I must admit to feel slightly vindicated that I didn't attend my own reunion. Because, let's be honest - one was enough for both of us, and the adage "what's yours becomes ours" in marriage has never been more helpful in my life. One is enough, dear.

Now, who's with me on starting a paper chain countdown to the 20-year reunion?!