It seems that June is a good time to head down memory lane. Since I posted a blog about my 50th high school reunion on October 10, 2011, and wrote about my senior prom in last week's blog, I thought I'd write about one of my college reunions.
Charley and I both graduated from Colby College in Waterville, Maine. Although he graduated well before me (Ha!), we attend each other's reunions because we know each other's classmates. When I sent in our deposit for a particular reunion of mine a while back, it seemed a good idea to take advantage of the option to stay in one of the dorms. My class would have its headquarters there, so it would be just a short walk down the hall after late nightcaps - no driving. And we'd save some $ by not getting a hotel room.
Our core group gathered at headquarters in the morning, organized the keepsakes and memorabilia, and put on the tee shirts that our classmate, Chris Brown, had designed for the parade of classes. The weather had been perfect for the boat ride the day before, and remained that way for the lobster/clambake, tennis, golf, seminars, lectures, and class dinner. The trouble started when we went to our room to sleep.
Trying to relive your youth at forty is one thing. Trying to relive it at sixty-something is another. The twin beds, which we'd expected, looked miniscule. Could they have really been that narrow when we were students? Or was this an attempt by the college to cut the budget by purchasing from Job Lots? If we turned over at all, we'd bump into a wall. The pillows felt like lumps of coal. Fortunately, we'd brought our own.
Maine gets cold at night, even in June! On each bed were sheets and one thin blanket. We changed into warmups. We put our socks on. Then we hopped in.
As I eased under the sheet and 1/4" blanket, I heard a crinkly sound. When I turned toward Charley, I heard it again. "What the heck is that?" I yelled across both desks to the far wall, where Charley was curled into a ball on his pallet.
"It's plastic on the mattress," he mumbled. "Come over here. There'll be more body heat." A tiger doesn't change his stripes! I put a sweater over my warmup and pulled a raincoat over the blanket on my bed. Like I said, reliving your youth at sixty-something is another matter.
I heard singing. It seemed to be in the next room. I pulled myself out of bed and unlocked the door. The music wasn't coming from the hall. I pulled the shade up on our window and looked down. There was a bunch of twenty-somethings celebrating below us on the grass. A couple of guys were doing a really bad job of "Celebrate Good Times."
It was three a.m. when they disbanded. After that, I dozed off.
I have been known to get up several times during the night to use the bathroom, if I've had lots of liquids. Ditto for Chas. He went first - down the hall to the far corner. I heard a shout echoing off the tiles, but didn't budge.
When he reappeared, he woke me. "What now?" I asked.
"The bathrooms are co-ed! Guess who I just met in there? Cindy Mello, the homecoming queen!"
"I'm sure she didn't look any better at 3 a.m. than you did! Go back to bed."
You can bet I showered in the ladies' locker room at the field house the following morning! Another safe bet would be that the Holiday Inn became our home during future reunions.
