My ten-year college reunion is coming up next month and the anxiety dreams have already begun. There’s no real reason to be anxious—it’s not like a high school reunion, which would have really major psychological implications. There’s no one I’m afraid to see at the Colby reunion, no ex boyfriends or ex friends to deal with, no one whose opinion of me would matter. Honestly, it’ll be a great time. A bunch of us hatched a grand plan to rent a house on one of the Belgrade Lakes, but no one got their act together and by the time we started looking all the houses were rented, so instead we’re staying in the dorms. Extra long twin beds!! Shared bathrooms!! Beer die parties in the lounge!! Woo!
So why is there still something weird about going back? I’m excited to show Lunchboy around campus, and to see all the changes that have been made since we graduated. The dorms? From what I hear they’re now luxury complexes as opposed to the tiny boxes we lived in back in the day. And the dining halls, which were always decent, are now supposedly 4-star eating establishments. Do they still have wok night? Taco night? Vegan night at Foss? Can I still have 5 bowls of Lucky Charms or make a Belgian waffle with whipped cream for dinner?
Reunion also offers the opportunity to do all the things I didn’t get to do as an undergrad, without any of the consequences. I always heard about people getting busy in the stacks at the library but the one time I ever got a guy back there, he was too chicken to get it going. I never signed my name in the library tower or streaked the Student Center or went skinny dipping in Johnson Pond. And Janice Kassman can’t touch me now so maybe it’s time to throw a big f*ing party. With alcohol. Maybe we’ll take the alcohol to the library stairs just so we can watch her jump up and down in frustration that 1. alcohol exists and 2. she can’t take it away this time.
Still, I keep dreaming that we get back to campus and I can’t find my way to the Student Center, where I have to go because all my course materials are in my mailbox. I’m surrounded by all the skinny girls who wore cute, expensive dresses to the semi-formals but I can’t find any of my friends. The place feels familiar and alien at the same time. I know where I am but can’t find my way.