Last night was my five year high school reunion. I had had no intentions of going to such a ridiculous event but the friends I have kept in contact with told me I had to come. Plus, for $20 we got an open bar. Really cheap gin and tonics. Count me in. How are you? What have you been up to? Where are you living? Where did you go to school again? Typical nonsense that no one will remember by the time of this posting. I even had the great misfortune of saying "nice to meet you, what's your name?" to a former classmate. She didn't seem too happy to be completely forgotten. Oh well.
After the drinks were flowing however, the awkwardness subsided and the real fun started. Everyone started to loosen up and by the end, guys were hitting on the girls who wound up being hot and the girls looked for a way out. Old hatreds fell away and other than a single rocket scientist, everyone was living at home or had just found a job and had moved out recently. Made me feel good about being a valet.
Now, I went to this soiree with two buddies of mine. I came home with neither of them. Shortly after getting home, Steve showed up just as inebriated as I was. Upon realizing he was alone, I checked for my other buddy in his room. Sure enough, fully clothed and passed out face down, sideways across his bed, I found the third member of our party. Not wishing to disturb him to find out how he got home, I grabbed a beer and hopped into bed.
This morning, Scott woke up to find blood all over his bed. He has no idea when he left the bar, how he got home or how he injured himself. With no evidence to piece together what happened, we simply laughed and took a trip to the friendly, local hospital.
Overall, a good night.
[EDIT] Another piece to the puzzle emerges.
"I totally got your roommate home alive after finding him trying to stuff his coat-check ticket into the the Charlie Card reader."
