Strange ruminations and meanderings. And yet I never have missed a reunion. There are some people that have never been to a reunion and to them I say, how sad. You’re missing out on a serious trip, let alone a chance for bizarre reconciliation and remembrances. And yet there were still the strange cliques and groups forming and holding together. There was a slide show of pictures that basically was a walk down the memory lane of all the athletic jock types and people I never hung out with. I knew them all and still do, but it never was my thing. I was, and actually still do, strive to recognize the people that excel without a shred of recognition from any other source. For they do it for themselves, not for the kudos’ that come along with it. I’ll always believe in the underdogs of our society. They’re almost always more interesting and never dull when invited to parties.
We partied like crazy into the night and after they closed, or at least tried to close, the employees of the Madonna Inn started to herd us out the door. They didn’t have to use the whips and chains, but I’m sure they were close. And so we all said goodbye to those not hitting the bar-b-que for the families the next day and off we went. I was going to hang out in the room of my buddy as I was not completely sobered up yet, but he said the party was going at room 111. We got there and besides the people that rented the room, there was me and my buddy. We hung for a bit, and I was ready to boogey when another group of people showed up and said they were going to dance the night away at a place called the native. I had no clue where that was so I didn’t crawl in the car, unlike the buddy who did.
