NPHS Class of 96 is the new awesome

This weekend marked the official death of any adolescent life I still may have been clinging to. That's right. I attended my 10 year high school reunion - one of those official aging milestones that you just can't deny.

They suggested that we wear "country club casual" attire. So much for pulling out my old prom dress and wearing it:

Country Club Casual? I guess. I was more nervous about what to wear than I think I ought to have been. Ten years have passed since I have seen or talked to most of these people, and I am probably supposed to pretend that I don't care, right?But all of a sudden, as I was standing there at the hotel about to walk into the reunion area, every insecurity that I may have ever felt walking those locker-lined halls came back. Its not like there is nothing to be nervous about. I mean, what if everyone else is now thin and beautiful and rich and successful and owns acres and acres of property and diamond encrusted jewelry (hyperventilation here). Or worse yet, what if no one I know is there, and I relive the days of braving the gauntlet of the lunch room - trying to appear nonchalant and not alone as you scan the tables for someone to sit next to?

Of course, there was nothing to worry about. I immediately recognized everyone, and then the evening was full of taking photos with people and remembering embarrassing things that happened 10 years ago. This is Colleen and Joe. Colleen and I used to tease Joe mercilessly in high-school, and (long story) had given him the nickname Frugal Joe. You can imagine that the second we saw him, we yelled "Frugal Joe!" and insisted that we take a photo with him. See? Now we are making new embarrassing memories to talk about at our 20 year reunion!
Proof that Colleen and I have been friends for a very, very long time.

I couldnt find any old photos of me and Frugal Joe to prove how long we have been making fun of eachother, but I did find one of the hate notes that he left me in my yearbook. Who signs people's yearbooks "Keep Out Of Touch"? Frugal Joe. Thats who.

And as a surreal end to the evening, we all ended up at a new swanky little nightclub called ch 8 out in Agoura Hills. Since when does my hometown have a nightclub with a red cordon rope and girls in lowcut shirts waiting outside to get in? Never when I was growing up there, that's for sure.

Apparently one of the guys I graduated with manages the place though, so we all went for free to check it out. I found myself out on the dance floor with people I had taken Spanish class with 10 years ago and haven't spoken to since.

Oh, Newbury Park High School, Class of 96. Let's do it again soon. Like in another 10 years.