Last night, I accidentally went to my college reunion. I hadn't intended to attend, but I had some friends who talked me into showing up for part of a concert that was being held at the event. I hoped to show up and just listen to the music without having to be recognized as an alum; alas, I was required to officially register, wear a name tag, the whole nine yards. The night cost $35 (one of many reasons I thought "hell no") but if I agreed not to eat or drink, I could get in for $10. What a deal, especially considering I ate and drank anyway. (Don't judge, it was encouraged as there was loads of leftovers as it was.)
As far as reunions go, I did very little reuniting. With the exception of Caitlin who was abroad last semester (and, shhhhh, not really an alumnus), I didn't speak to anyone I hadn't seen within the past two months. We spent a good portion of the night hanging out in the area designated for the women of the 60s and 70s - presumably all people who actually fit this demographic turned in early. 'Tever, I think we represented them well.
The reason we were there was to see the Mountain Goats, a band popular in the indie music scene. It's a good thing we showed up because by the time the band's set rolled around, the last one of the night, it was pretty deserted. While that was probably upsetting for singer John Darnielle, it was a treat for the twenty of us present to receive a private concert, an experience for which people I know would pay at least $100. It was a great set, perhaps in part because of the intimacy. John sang a lot about divorce - something for the nonexistent older crowd. Ey also threw in one about doing meth, which was more up my alley. As an alumnus, John explained how many of eir songs occurred on or around campus, which is cool to know the places that inspired em well and that we both divorced/did meth in similar locations. Because there were so few of us so close to the stage, each reasonably quiet "woo" or "yeah" from the audience was heard and reacted to by John. Darnielle seems to share a weird disorder with John Mayer in that eir face contorts and looks frightening while singing. I won't hold it against the Mountain Goats, however, as I'm sure I don't want to see the faces I make while I teach.
After the concert, we all proceeded to an after party located in my old dorm, which was where all the other alumni were hiding. The party offered an endless supply of beer and old people. I kept company with Popov, notoriously cheap vodka, just like I did in my real college days and, who am I kidding, still today. My friends and I didn't mingle too much, but instead instituted a game where you'd get points by hooking up with an alumnus, with more value for people of older graduation years. There were also potential bonus points if they were married, had kids, had kids older than yourself, etc. Alas, in spite of the wealth of alcohol, no one made a move, well, in our group anyway. There were some people in their 30s gratuitously making out for the world to see. I'm guessing they were old flames, since married people don't act like that. Kurosh came the close to earning some points when ey was approached seductively by someone much older, but nothing developed. Sigh.
Aside from the amorous middle-aged folks, the funniest part was the woman who sent her spouse and kids back to the hotel so that she could find some younger grads to smoke pot with her for the first time. Nothing like making up for lost opportunities at your reunion. Before I knew it, my friends and I were the last ones standing, and we were asked to leave. Proof positive that '05-'07 rocks it harder than those '82 losers!
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