I walked in and got my name badge on, then went out back for a smoke. As I hung out the same buddy from last night with his man came and they hung out and had a smoke with me. As we were hanging out and polluting our lungs together, a guy I hadn’t seen in an age came around the corner. I grabbed him and gave him a hug and asked what he was doing since the high school released us to our own recognizance. He had been living in Seattle running a dog hotel thingy, and had been there for about five years. I guess he had had a few issues in the area and had escaped up north to get away from it all. Since he had the room closest to the party he was elected to be the host room guy for frop inhalation. We hung out under a really interestingly formed juniper that had been teased into a tree shape. But as we were both dry the call of alcohol was too strong of a sirens lure to resist. So we went into the room that would be our resting and partying place for the next few hours.
I came, after an indeterminate amount of time, to the conclusion that I was on that freaky ore cart ride in that Indiana Jones movie. You know the one. They’re cruising under the earth and they go up on two wheels, they careen around corners, they jump from one to the other end of a broken and dilapidated track, they fight strange Indian guys that want to screw with Indie’s head. That pell-mell ride from hell. That’s what it felt like to me. I saw people I hadn’t seen in yeeeeaaaaarrrrrrssssss. Some hadn’t even made it to any of the other reunions we had, where the corn cob vibe was not so intense and the kids were alright. This time people had lost parents, children, themselves, and we had grown up. Well, at least they had all thought they were grown up; I was under no such compulsions to perjure myself with foolishness.
