At the end of May it will officially be twenty years since I graduated from high school. High School was not altogether an unpleasurable experience for me. I had a few friends, I got my driver’s license, and I learned the all-important “beer before liquor, never been sicker; Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear” rule. I’d say I had an average high school experience.
I skipped out on our ten year reunion. There may have been a reason but I don’t remember it if there was. I did, however, attend the pre-game the night before at which I may have drank just enough to become unfiltered around some people I hadn’t seen in a decade. It was nice and easygoing. I had a few beers with some people, talked and we all went our separate ways, most of us not to speak for another decade.
Like every graduating class, the Class of 1997 has its own Facebook page filled with people I swear never went to high school with us. Not much ever goes on there, though, except for the occasional unfortunate obituary and the guy who never grew up asking for people to “catch up and party.”
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