Party Like It's 1995?

Last weekend, we made our way back to Terre Haute for Erica's 15-year high school reunion.

(Needle scratch)

"You did what?"

Yes, I attended a high school reunion in Terre Haute, Indiana.

Didn't see that one coming, did you? 

But before you break out the hypocrite blasts and call me out, the catch is that I went to Erica's reunion, not mine.

Settle down, I'm not crazy.

[Yes, that back-handed slap was directed at you, Class of 1993.  You know who you are.]

Anyway, for those who give a crap -- and why would you -- there was nothing redeeming about my high school experience prior to September 5, 1992.  Like you, I remember awkwardness.  I remember chicks with big hair.  I remember pegged jeans.  I remember cans of Lite Beer and overplayed Steve Miller music.  I remember failing at being cool and being cool with the idea of failure.  The typical four years of being hopped up on hormones and the sad realization that nothing was going to be amazing like I imagined as a kid and we were all going to meet in the proverbial "middle" at some point.

On my way to high school melancholy, I met an energetic lifesaver who threw my whole experience upside down.


(wait for it)


Chris Hoffman, you complete me. 

Nah.  Just kidding.


(C'mon, you're not reading this to be mushy and nostalgic, are you?)


Anyway, Erica's reunion was a good time. 

Watching Erica with her friends from high school brought back good memories for both of us.  Of course, by the sixth beer -- only four of which I paid for -- the memories were beginning to merge with my blurring sense of balance.

Oh, and by the way, Eric Tracy?  I think the bartender charged a few of my beers on your tab.  Sorry, bro.  I'll get you back at the 20th.

Here's a snapshot of what else made me chuckle:

1.  Upon arriving at the reunion, I blasted, head first, into one of the poles at Stables Restaurant.  Never saw the damn thing.  I don't think anyone saw me, but I'm sure it was hilarious if you did.

2.  The awkwardness.  I was -- and still am -- a douche bag.  Therefore, having awkward silences with people who know me only as "Erica's boyfriend/husband from high school" doesn't give me much material to work with. 

My apologies to all of you who realize that I have no interesting segues.

3.  That said, my favorite segue of the night came from Lindsay's husband who had to stop me in mid-boring anecdote to rush to the bathroom to avoid pissing himself.

Yes, I was that boring.  Sorry, Trevor.  It made me laugh, though.

4.   The DJ.  Scruffy dude, sleeve-less Harley Davidson shirt AND a fan of Black Eyed Peas?  I did not see that one coming.  I even liked the scratch version he played of a few BEP songs.   Edgy, man.  Although, I don't remember that music from 1995 - not that things have improved much in that department.

5.  Erica's propensity to take picture after picture with the same quasi-vacant cheerleader smile.  I have been trying to figure out how she does that.  Amazing.  Did your cheerleading coach teach that to you or something?

6.  The fertility of the class of 1995.  Everyone had a minimum of 6 kids.  What's with you people?  I was worried that Erica might get pregnant just attending the event and standing next to you guys. 

I was glad I beat your horn-dog class to that one. 

Alright.  Enough talky-talky.  Here's the only picture I managed not to take:    

We should have put a name tag on Erica's bump.