College Reunion: Dining with Punks

I’m not the kind of person who would sorely miss high school and college nor would I have difficulty in moving past them. It’s in my nature to accept an end of a chapter and move on to the next one. I am, however, a total sucker for reminiscing memories. Family reunion season has always been the best time of year for me because not only do we get to create new memories, we have so much fun talking about the old ones as well.

When a friend invited me to have dinner with 15 other friends from college last night, I said yes. With the exception of my two closest friends, I haven’t seen any of them since graduation day so I figured now is as good a time as any to see them again. I thought for sure a reunion with some college friends would be as fun as a reunion with family.

I guess it was fun. But at the same time, it was also really exhausting. I went in feeling anxious (because it had been a long day) but hopeful, and I went home utterly spent and a bit let down.

In that small restaurant, our group was the rowdiest and the rudest. People were shouting at the waitress when they wanted to order something. The guys were jokingly forcing my friend who planned the whole thing to pay for their meal because they didn’t have any money. Some were loudly complaining about their order taking too long. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was spit on our food, to be honest. I don’t want to sound like a mature, uptight and self-righteous douche but it really did feel like what went down was the complete opposite of that – instead of having a nice public-friendly conversation, our table had shouting matches and fits of laughter that you only see in a bar (which would have been fine if we were in a bar)… and alcohol wasn’t even present yet! Overall, it kind of felt like I was having dinner with – forgive me, friends – a bunch of punks.

Fortunately for me, I had a legitimate reason to leave early since my youngest sister Karen, who was also having dinner with her high school friends at a cafe across the street, needed to come home early. So I approached the waitress, paid for my meal, apologized for my table, and left. Surprisingly enough, on the drive home, I found out that Karen had the same experience with her friends.

It’s weird to me because I expected this get-together would show how much we’ve all changed and grown since the last time we’ve seen each other. Instead, I was faced with the realization that sometimes the older people get the more childish they become.


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