Reunited and It Feels So Good

For the past six months I've trained like decathlete--like a man possessed. Every day, lifting, running, dieting, Lifecycle, Deathcycle, whatever it took. I was a madman on a mission, and when the big moment finally arrived, I was ready. What were these countless hours of toil and pain all about, you ask? The Olympic trials? The Utah summer games? Negative. Only one event could justify such grueling preparation . . . my 20 year High School reunion.

True I don't know any of these people any better than I did 20 years ago, but for some peculiar reason, I feel as though I've got something to prove to them. I can't even honestly say I was looking forward to catching up with any of my old classmates--I just wanted to show up looking good.

You might surmise from this little confession, that I went through High School a geeky little twerp that got picked-on alot. Actually the opposite is more or less the truth. I guess you would say I was a jock and most of my friends were popular kids. Even so, I was always insecure, worrying too much about being liked by the "right" people, always feeling like there was some cool secret I wasn't being let in on. What can I say? High School.

Reunions are a wonderful thing though, they level the playing field--the girl who dogged you way back when, may well have turned into one by now. Those for whom High School was a painful experience are often served well by a reunion. They've grown into that nose, lost the baby fat and the acne, got rich and stayed thin. Justice is served. Five years doesn't go by fast enough for these people.

So anyway, I show up to the big bash looking lean and mean--a suntanned man in his prime. Pushing forty? Fuh geddaboudit. I stroll on in with my lovely young wife, looking like two newlyweds that wandered in by mistake, and guess what folks--everybody else looked just as marvelous as I "imagined" I did. I still can't believe it. I'd envisioned my classmates as a sad bunch of fuddled old duffers, shuffling past the buffet, identifiable only by their name tags. These people are almost forty, for God's sake! Wrong. Everybody looked like they'd spent the last 20 years at a mineral spa with a diet coach and a personal trainer. If any of them were wrinkled and gray, they didn't show up. The cowards--six months of punishing physical fine tuning shot to hell.

Not even the few balding guys were a consolation . . . they were bald for the last one. You really have to take your hat off to your balding classmates who show up--they know there's probably a box of Rogaine with their name on it. And the award for "Most Follicley Challenged," goes to Paul Ishted. It's just cold. Which brings me to the "awards" part of the proceedings. All reunions do this funny little awards thing and however amusing, it's usually pretty cruel.

My favorite is an award that is usually dubbed "the Most Changed." This award can go alot of ways but it's rarely flattering. A common recipient of this award would be a girl who was perhaps a bit on the homely side in school, but has since blossomed into a beautiful swan. This may not appear all that harsh, but pretty much the message being sent here is: you look pretty good now, but you sure gave us a good scare in High School"

The "Most Changed" is also typically awarded to the handsome homecoming King/Captain of the football team-type who lost most of his hair and made up for it by getting fat. Also known as the "What the hell happened to you" award, you're not going to find it proudly displayed up on the mantle. I've also seen the "Most Changed" go to the wild and crazy party-guy, who did everything short of double dating with the devil, and has since found himself a spot on the bishopric.

Every class has it's share of these reform cases, and there's nothing wrong with it. Most of the time these guys were fun-loving charmers whom everyone knew would eventually come around anyway; but I've seen a few of these "born again" cases that are downright eerie. One fellow in particular, whom I used to be somewhat friendly with back in his sinful days, now pretends that he has no idea who I am. I'm serious--I think he repented me right out of existence. I found myself sneaking peeks at his forehead for evidence of lobotomy. Hello, anybody home? It's like when they evicted the devil from his spiritual house, he took everything but a blanket and a bean bag chair. I certainly prefer these guys to the ones who keep bouncing back and forth--one month it's off to the Temple, the next it's off to the Blarney Stone. Bla bla bla I'm getting preachy now, I'm sorry.

I was a bit surprised to find that there were still a few hold-outs in our class who had never experienced the joy of matrimony. On your ten year reunion (or even your 15) this comes as no huge shock. (Maybe a playboy who likes playing the field, or a gal who hasn't stumbled on to Mr. Right as of yet) No sweat, take your time. But by the time the big 20 year reunion rolls around, the possible reasons as to why someone has never been married, start to grow mighty slim. I'll let you make up your own jokes here because I've got to hurry and call my cable provider for the big pay-per-view grudge match. I'm sure you've heard all about it--Tony Kukoc vs. Jeff Hornacek. The "Clash of the Slav's" baby, this is gonna be awesome and my money's on Horny.