The Aftermath
The day had finally arrived. I spent the required so many hours making sure I was prepped and ready physically so as not a hair was out of place and I was as neat as a pin. I knew I had scrubbed up nicely when some woman at the gas station at the pump across from me said that I was looking like a queen. I told her I only dress up in order to do so. C and I met at a Starbucks on Chagrin Boulevard, left his car there, and carpooled over a few blocks as parking was going to be a bitch. And, there we were. I gave him full props for dressing to the nines, and he did not wear the tie dyed T shirts and silver pants he would usually wear at Nelson's Ledges as his usual garb.
With 48 hours and counting, something went down. When I got my invite in the mail several months ago, there was to be a playdate at someone's house earlier that morning so that those in their classes could bring their kids. Truth be told, this was what I was looking forward to the most, as this was going to be the official check in time (when everyone was going around the room, telling others what they were doing). And honestly, unless you were very tight with other members of other classes, why else would you be doing it? A few weeks after the initial invites were sent, a correction was made. As it seems, a mistake was made and it was not taking place at the listed home and address but rather at another's in Gates Mills. I gave my RSVP as appropriate. Earlier that week, the hostess confirmed on a Facebook thread that the playdate was occurring at her house and she wanted a final head count so that she had enough food for it. I and others on the thread gave our headcounts (I can't come, I will be coming with/without my kids, etc.). Quite suddenly, we were sent a link to another private facility somewhere in town for the playdate. I updated C so he could make his travel arrangements as they came in. Then the playdate was cancelled completely. There was a mad scramble to find an alternate location, then it just seemed to die. Last thing I did before I went to bed was to email C on the plan, and since he's a reliable guy I knew he would go with the flow. I said we would meet at a Starbucks on Chagrin Boulevard to leave his car there (as parking would be a bitch), and I'd drive him there.
Saturday morning, just as planned, I met C at Starbucks and drove him a few blocks over to the location. Some would say that my bringing a date (albeit a fake one) to a high school reunion was tacky, but he turned out to be my saving grace for the day because if I didn't have him to entertain I would literally have had nothing to do. There were tours of the building the day before, but I thought it would be nicer to see the building when it was silent and not so crowded, which it was. There were quite a few changes to the facility itself (repainted walls, classes and offices moved to new locations, the entire third floor was closed off for remodeling, etc.). The artwork displayed was nice, there used to be a photo lab / dark room on the third floor, but that has long since disappeared thanks to the evolution of digital photography. That, on a side note, I regret, as I always did want to learn how to develop film in a dark room, but that would be a useless talent today. It was also funny to take C into the science wing, see the old chemistry lab and tell him that teacher was a menopausal old hag. Plus there were all these signs around the place about going green and conserving water (oddly enough on the doors of the bathrooms), and I called it a bunch of hippie nonsense.
And then came the moment where we had the actual alumni lunch in the dinning room. I hate to boast, but it was quite a privilege to have C with me and his being such a good sport about my introducing him to others as my handsome fake trophy husband. Some laughed, some gave a look of "huh?", and some could have cared less I guess. C provided his own form of entertainment unique to him. I overheard someone ask him what he did, he said he was a personal trainer and a lifeguard, and he's an actor. She gave one of those "Oh, I see" looks without understanding it. I felt smug. C also has a very healthy appetite, and he ate everything on his plate. Someone across from him made a comment like "You ate all of that already?" I gave his leg a pat and his shoulders a rub and said "He's a personal trainer, he eats NFL amounts of calories all day". We did not act too lovely dovey with them, just enough to make them wonder. One said he was a brave man to come be with a roomful of women like this, he smiled and said "Well... You know." About an hour later, it was over.
I did not want to keep C there any longer, he said he had to get home and help his grandfather do some yardwork and I didn't want him to change his plan just because of me. Before I left, however, I tried to find out exactly what happened to the playdate. It was an official event, as it was included on the invitation materials. For an answer, I was given eye rolling and sighs. "There was some drama" is all they said. Call me a bitch if you like, but I am telling you, dear readers whoever you are, that this was an incredibly shitty thing to do. I will not name the hostess's name because I AIN'T CRAZY, but what kind of an asshole commits to hosting an event like this with people coming in from all four corners and then cancels on them 48 hours before? The hostess also did not show up for any of the events either. I think she threw a tantrum or something.
Truth be told, I was disappointed in the entire situation. I do not pin this on the institution itself, I pin this on the bad behaviors of those around me. Later that day, I logged onto Facebook and found that many did, in fact, go to a playdate that was haphazardly arranged at the same facility where it was to be moved to which I was not aware of. I would like to say that I was not the only one who did or did not know of this (as I have not discussed it with others as of this moment). Plus I did not really get to talk with people, because otherwise why would anyone want to go to one of these things? People change, someone told me just recently, I may be surprised. Honestly, I was not. Teenage angst has paid up, my middle aged angst is just as angsty. I sat there and thought to myself "Oh the things you don't know what I have done." Did they want to see my scars and split knuckles? Did they want to hear about all the messed up things I have done or any of the accomplishments I have achieved? Did they want to hear about anything I had to say? Not really. It's all just nonsense.
Once the group started to break up, there was some more talk about our possibly meeting up in a bar or restaurant or something later on to do official check ins after some other planned thing later that day. No, we weren't. And even if it was hoped for, others would not show because they were angry about the playdate screw up, because that's what it was. Some were going to see the Star Trek movie, I said I was going to my friend E's house for a party later that night. At E's party, I talked with a detective who I had met at a trivia night and we exchanged hilarious law enforcement / education / health care stories. They're all connected aren't they? Then I went to a bar and happened to run into another gal who I knew from Tremont who also went to my high school, two years behind me, and told her the whole story. She said that sounded very stereotypical, I said I could've been at home watching Good Times.
As we sat at the table at the back, I stared at the overflowing ashtray, the dirty glasses and bottles of drunk beer, the waft of pot smoke in the air behind me. I remembered the years at Speak In Tongues, all the filth and the violence and the punk rock. All the face, neck and hand tattoos, looked up at the second floor where that illegal poker game went down and the whole place erupted in gunfire and riots, and the known cracksmoker at the next table. I opened a poetry book by Charles Bukowski at home and read "Big Night on the Town". And the guy next to me is probably packing heat. So not what was intended, I thought. Good Times. Ain't we lucky we got em?
With 48 hours and counting, something went down. When I got my invite in the mail several months ago, there was to be a playdate at someone's house earlier that morning so that those in their classes could bring their kids. Truth be told, this was what I was looking forward to the most, as this was going to be the official check in time (when everyone was going around the room, telling others what they were doing). And honestly, unless you were very tight with other members of other classes, why else would you be doing it? A few weeks after the initial invites were sent, a correction was made. As it seems, a mistake was made and it was not taking place at the listed home and address but rather at another's in Gates Mills. I gave my RSVP as appropriate. Earlier that week, the hostess confirmed on a Facebook thread that the playdate was occurring at her house and she wanted a final head count so that she had enough food for it. I and others on the thread gave our headcounts (I can't come, I will be coming with/without my kids, etc.). Quite suddenly, we were sent a link to another private facility somewhere in town for the playdate. I updated C so he could make his travel arrangements as they came in. Then the playdate was cancelled completely. There was a mad scramble to find an alternate location, then it just seemed to die. Last thing I did before I went to bed was to email C on the plan, and since he's a reliable guy I knew he would go with the flow. I said we would meet at a Starbucks on Chagrin Boulevard to leave his car there (as parking would be a bitch), and I'd drive him there.
Saturday morning, just as planned, I met C at Starbucks and drove him a few blocks over to the location. Some would say that my bringing a date (albeit a fake one) to a high school reunion was tacky, but he turned out to be my saving grace for the day because if I didn't have him to entertain I would literally have had nothing to do. There were tours of the building the day before, but I thought it would be nicer to see the building when it was silent and not so crowded, which it was. There were quite a few changes to the facility itself (repainted walls, classes and offices moved to new locations, the entire third floor was closed off for remodeling, etc.). The artwork displayed was nice, there used to be a photo lab / dark room on the third floor, but that has long since disappeared thanks to the evolution of digital photography. That, on a side note, I regret, as I always did want to learn how to develop film in a dark room, but that would be a useless talent today. It was also funny to take C into the science wing, see the old chemistry lab and tell him that teacher was a menopausal old hag. Plus there were all these signs around the place about going green and conserving water (oddly enough on the doors of the bathrooms), and I called it a bunch of hippie nonsense.
And then came the moment where we had the actual alumni lunch in the dinning room. I hate to boast, but it was quite a privilege to have C with me and his being such a good sport about my introducing him to others as my handsome fake trophy husband. Some laughed, some gave a look of "huh?", and some could have cared less I guess. C provided his own form of entertainment unique to him. I overheard someone ask him what he did, he said he was a personal trainer and a lifeguard, and he's an actor. She gave one of those "Oh, I see" looks without understanding it. I felt smug. C also has a very healthy appetite, and he ate everything on his plate. Someone across from him made a comment like "You ate all of that already?" I gave his leg a pat and his shoulders a rub and said "He's a personal trainer, he eats NFL amounts of calories all day". We did not act too lovely dovey with them, just enough to make them wonder. One said he was a brave man to come be with a roomful of women like this, he smiled and said "Well... You know." About an hour later, it was over.
I did not want to keep C there any longer, he said he had to get home and help his grandfather do some yardwork and I didn't want him to change his plan just because of me. Before I left, however, I tried to find out exactly what happened to the playdate. It was an official event, as it was included on the invitation materials. For an answer, I was given eye rolling and sighs. "There was some drama" is all they said. Call me a bitch if you like, but I am telling you, dear readers whoever you are, that this was an incredibly shitty thing to do. I will not name the hostess's name because I AIN'T CRAZY, but what kind of an asshole commits to hosting an event like this with people coming in from all four corners and then cancels on them 48 hours before? The hostess also did not show up for any of the events either. I think she threw a tantrum or something.
Truth be told, I was disappointed in the entire situation. I do not pin this on the institution itself, I pin this on the bad behaviors of those around me. Later that day, I logged onto Facebook and found that many did, in fact, go to a playdate that was haphazardly arranged at the same facility where it was to be moved to which I was not aware of. I would like to say that I was not the only one who did or did not know of this (as I have not discussed it with others as of this moment). Plus I did not really get to talk with people, because otherwise why would anyone want to go to one of these things? People change, someone told me just recently, I may be surprised. Honestly, I was not. Teenage angst has paid up, my middle aged angst is just as angsty. I sat there and thought to myself "Oh the things you don't know what I have done." Did they want to see my scars and split knuckles? Did they want to hear about all the messed up things I have done or any of the accomplishments I have achieved? Did they want to hear about anything I had to say? Not really. It's all just nonsense.
Once the group started to break up, there was some more talk about our possibly meeting up in a bar or restaurant or something later on to do official check ins after some other planned thing later that day. No, we weren't. And even if it was hoped for, others would not show because they were angry about the playdate screw up, because that's what it was. Some were going to see the Star Trek movie, I said I was going to my friend E's house for a party later that night. At E's party, I talked with a detective who I had met at a trivia night and we exchanged hilarious law enforcement / education / health care stories. They're all connected aren't they? Then I went to a bar and happened to run into another gal who I knew from Tremont who also went to my high school, two years behind me, and told her the whole story. She said that sounded very stereotypical, I said I could've been at home watching Good Times.
As we sat at the table at the back, I stared at the overflowing ashtray, the dirty glasses and bottles of drunk beer, the waft of pot smoke in the air behind me. I remembered the years at Speak In Tongues, all the filth and the violence and the punk rock. All the face, neck and hand tattoos, looked up at the second floor where that illegal poker game went down and the whole place erupted in gunfire and riots, and the known cracksmoker at the next table. I opened a poetry book by Charles Bukowski at home and read "Big Night on the Town". And the guy next to me is probably packing heat. So not what was intended, I thought. Good Times. Ain't we lucky we got em?
Comments
Post a Comment