Wednesday, February 17, 2010
After my previous post, I decided to attend my high school reunion. I had my doubts though: would everyone think I'm still geeky? Would people think I'm a loser because I'm still finishing off my university degree? What am I going to answer when people ask for the one hundredth time, "So, what are you currently up to Tina?"
Dreading these thoughts, I had a plan: I'll hire a double D breasted hooker with lots of make-up and pretend it's me. Only problem was I didn't have $3,000 lying around my home to do that. My friends however, were against this and didn't see why I wanted a hooker to impersonate me. Though they did warn me to not wear a blazer because it would look as if I was trying too hard to impress my classmates. I haven't done anything remotely impressive, but apparently, the blazer was pushing it too far.
When I got to the function room at the Shamrock Lounge in Sydney, N.S.W - perhaps the perfect adult way to reminisce my high school memories - there were people in the room. The lounge was dimly lit, so I didn't recognise anyone.
With $300 tugged into my handbag, I decided to buy a drink. As I glanced around the room, no one's face looked familiar. This was a bad place in finding out what people I knew as teenagers looked like, if they were married, what they do for a living, who went to jail for a while. All the important questions.
Then a man aged in his latest forties came towards me,
"Oh hey Lizzie! What have you been doing since we graduated from med school?"
I couldn't move. My feet were cemented to the floor. I'm in the wrong reunion.
I answered the man anyway,
"Um hello!" I left my hand in a friendly little wave, and smiled around the room.
But nobody smiled back.
"Errm...I've just got to..." I started backing away. "Just go to..."
I turned. And I ran.
As I arrived back down the foyer, I'm panting slightly. Which is not surprising, since I've just done a half marathon along endless corridors, trying to get out of this place. I pressed the button for the lift, then paused to catch my breathe. I straightened my dress, transferred my handbag from one aching shoulder to the other, and began to walk calmly across the foyer towards the door. All I can think about is getting out of this function before anyone can...
"Tina!" comes a voice behind my head, and I froze. Shit. They've got me.
"Hello," I gulped, turning around.
It was a classmate of mine, standing right in front of me.
"Hi Tina, I'm just here to tell you that we didn't book a venue for 5 year reunion - so come down to the bar next door".
This day is unbelievable. Completely and utterly unreal.
I followed my classmate, clasping my beige tote bag tightly. I gave a nervous look to my classmate and I'm already having worrying about this reunion. What if everyone thinks I'm still pimply Tina? What if everyone thinks I'm a trumped-up unemployed uni student with no aim in life?
As I arrived at the bar, there were a few people sipping drinks. To my surprise, I realised a lot of the people attending the reunion had the same nagging thoughts as well. However, I didn't expect to feel that I could happily go back to hanging out with these people. After high school, I was able to seek out friends who had similar interests and ambitions, instead of those who happened to live a walking distance away.
I left at ten-thirty, when most of my friends had other parties to attend. We left the potent mixture of nostalgia and beer behind, realising our futures don't hinge on this reunion.
Posted by Five Foot Nothing at 10:18 AM