Where Everybody Knows Your Name

I got outta town for the weekend, driving up the coast to loin-o-my-birth Santa Cruz to participate in the event that I tried for months to avoid: my high school reunion. I am not going to say which one. It's more than 10 years though.

Bob Anderson, Melanie Paizis, Me and a guy

My friend from High School, Bill, has the good sense to avoid these kinds of things. It's a zero-sum game after all. I mean, best case scenario is you see people you missed after a long absence, and rekindle long-neglected friendships. More frequently it's long-smoldering resentments.

I was a shy dude back at Aptos HS, who overcompensated by participating in theatre and Glee-style hijinx. I had expected few people to remember or recognize me. In fact, many more did me than I did them. I was apparently popular without knowing it.

Cathy Yednak, mine at last

I brought a date with me, and she was worried that women would be all over me. So I made it a point to have her by my side as much as possible when I talked to them. In the picture here, she is on the other side of the camera, watching very closely and I greet the girl I had a crush on in junior high. I think my date overestimates me, but I am pleased to report that very few girls found me repulsive.

Most of the people I went to school with grew up to be annoyingly well-adjusted, good-lookin' sorts. I wanted more train wrecks at the event - the homecoming queen who gained 200 pounds, the football hero who is addicted to methadone, the Moonie. Nothin'. Not only that, they're all taller than I am. (I am 5'8", the national average is 5'9", the average of my class is 6'8". This is anecdotal, of course.) So I was hoping to breeze in there and be the only one with hair and without a weight and booze problem. No dice, jack! Wayyyy to much of that kind of thing, if you ask me. I resent my class for not making me look good.

Maybe I'll have better luck in 10 years. Hope springs eternal!