Patti (whipartist) wrote,
Patti
whipartist

And she's off!

Tomorrow night I catch a redeye to St. Louis (first class... 30K miles for the upgrade, but worth it) for, deity help me, my 20-year high school reunion. Yikes! I can't really imagine why I'm going, except that I know I'd regret if I didn't. Besides, there's a certain horror show aspect of it that makes me want to pack a bunch of popcorn and get a front-row seat.

Most of the people there will be married, have three kids, live ten miles from their parents, and have fascinating jobs like office manager, regional sales coordinator, paralegal, delivery driver. I know one person now runs Bad Boyz Bail Bonds. There will be several engineers in the graduating class, though I don't know if many of them will be back. At least a few will be grandparents. Lots will be divorced, some more than once.

Oh, a lot of them will go to church every week, or at least now and then. A fair number will be politically conservative... typical midwesterners, really. Womens' hair will probably be big, largely with dark roots beneath the bottled blonde. No, that's not quite true... most of them will have it freshly done just for the event. Mens' hair will be short, if it still exists. The majority of them will think that Budweiser is good beer.

In short, they will have turned into their parents.

I'll probably be the only Californian there. I'd lay long odds that I'll be the only one with purple hair. Probably one other queer person will be there... maybe two, though I doubt I'll be able to spot them. I'll probably make more money this year than 95% of them, though they have a way cheaper cost of living. I'll almost certainly be the only one to have been through the dot-com boom from the inside.

I will be the only person there to have gambled professionally, though I bet a lot of them think a hot Friday night is to go down to the riverboats and plunk $20 into the slots.


These people are not my tribe. In fact, I have very little in common with them except an accidental past.

I rented a convertible for the weekend, not so much for me but because my mother loves them as much as I do.

Is it wrong to feel smug about having escaped the hellhole called the midwest?
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