I just got back from my high school reunion. I wrote before about feeling awkward about it, and for some of it, it was pretty awkward. I rolled into my home town around 10 to meet up with everyone for the "pub crawl." My town is tiny so this was three bars on as many blocks (I just realized this is an extremely high bar density).

Nobody was near drunk enough so the conversations mostly consisted of, "Oh hi, [name, if you can remember it], what are you up to? Where do you live?" We say this to each other, nod, and move on. For the most part it was too loud in the bars to have really good conversations, as the bars were all blasting late 90s early 00s music to welcome us home. I did some jello shots with some of my home-girls from honors English, but I had to drive to my parents' house after so I didn't go crazy. I quietly left.

I would later hear that in the last bar we were in, some fucking dude hit a woman with a billiards ball (no, not on accident) and there was a huge bar fight and arrests and blood everywhere but fortunately no one from the class of 2003 was involved. Way to be 2003.

The next day I watched the Amy's Bakery episode of Kitchen Nightmares with my dad because he hadn't seen it yet. This is the face he was making the whole time.

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After that I went to the park to meet my classmates again and meet their kids. This is where things got good. I got to reconnect with a lot of people that I had really liked in high school but had lost touch with. We talked about what we had done in the last ten years, and for a lot of us, it was a lot of fucking stuff. We talked about our memories from high school. Apparently I shot a really gross spider at one of my arachnophobic friends with a paper tube blow gun. I don't remember it, but it sounds like me. Some one that visited the school said they saw "Penabler Rules" still written in chalk on the ceiling where I had written it over ten years ago.

After, some of my closest friends, the ones I never lost touch with and chose to live in the bay area so we could be close to each other, drove to our old haunt in the woods and built a bonfire. We cooked many delicious meats and drank many cool brews. One of us grew up to become a cop and another a tug boat captain, so they get drug tested and would get in trouble if they smoked pot, so of course we ate mushrooms (another one of us grew up to be a drug dealer, which is convenient in cases like this). Then we danced around the fire like cavemen while blasting Daft Punk like spacemen. This was the family I chose to have, and after all these years they are still amazing.

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In other Father's Day, blood family news, my dad is cooler than all your dads.