It’s been 10 years since you aced your final spelling test, but now it’s time to go back. Your 10th Middle School Reunion (only losers go to the fifth) is a time to show that you’ve emerged from your prepubescent cocoon as a magnificent, collegiate butterfly. Tonight is a big night: time to make a good impression.
9:00: Arrive at the party exactly on time, like cool people do.
9:01: At least they’ve rented a nice room in a big convention center. I’ll never forgive my middle school for that eighth grade graduation we spent at Chuck E. Cheez.
9:05: Furiously text the one person I’ve stayed in touch with, reminding him that we agreed to come to this as a joke and he better fucking show up.
9:10: I hear that the sketchy kid who definitely grew up to be a drug dealer is operating a makeshift bar out of his car in the parking lot.
9:10 and 30 seconds: I am in the parking lot at the bar where I do shots with that girl whose foot I stepped on at our eighth grade Winter Formal. Her toenail literally cracked in half. It was gross.
9:15: Notice that none of the people I was friends with in middle school have showed up.
9:20: Shove a generous handful of cheese puffs into my mouth just as that nice cool kid comes up to ask me how I am. I spray a fine mist of orange cheese on his face as I attempt to say that college is pretty fun.
9:21: Back in parking lot. Do more shots.
9:28: Aggressively force my way into a conversation with a group of best friends I almost never spoke to. They’re talking about college so I say the word “Yale” as often as humanly possible and then leave abruptly.
9:36: Someone I don’t remember at all starts a conversation with me. After it becomes clear that I don’t know who they are, I immediately blame living in a bubble of Ivy League Privilege (mentioning Yale again) and excuse myself.
9:41: My soon-to-be-ex-favorite-person from middle school texts me saying that they will definitely not be making it.
9:42: Parking Lot.
9:50: Invade another conversation. Find out that the kid with the lazy eye also turned out gay.
9:52: Start hitting on kid with lazy eye.
9:53: Kid with lazy eye tells me he doesn’t really “go for desperate.” Well played.
9:57: Talking to this kid who clearly doesn’t remember me, but I’m pretending for his sake not to notice.
9:58: Same kid exclaims out of nowhere “Oh, I remember you. You were the kid who fell off the stage at the Christmas Pageant.” After an uncomfortably long pause I say something bizarre like “Gotta keep on keeping on” and stumble away.
10:00: My relationship with parking-lot-bar-guy has truly blossomed. He looks concerned and says, “You’re kind of a mess, aren’t you?” “Takes one to know one,” I respond, and playfully punch his arm before bursting into tears.
10:05: Burst into another conversation that no one wants me to be a part of and yell “I can’t believe I’m getting smashed with the kids from middle school.” At this point I realize everyone else has been sipping their drinks like normal people and I’m the only person who’s drunk. I mutter something about it being performance art and leave.
10:07: The cool kid who used to be mean to me walks in with his insanely gorgeous girlfriend.
10:08: Parking lot with my new buddy.
10:10: Go up to mean cool kid and scream “FUCK YOU!” Then I realize I’m actually talking to his nearly identical twelve-year-old brother, who is tall for his age.
10:15: Mean cool kid’s little brother is my new best friend. After a renewed bout of sobbing, he has agreed to sit down at a table in the corner and listen to me talk about how no one is genuine anymore.
10:17: My new best friend and I have had a falling out.
10:18: Parking lot. Shots.
10:25: Someone asks me how I’m doing. I scream “I’M AT YALE, BITCH.”
10:27: The cheese puffs are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
10:30: They’ve brought out pizza rolls. Nothing else matters because now I have pizza rolls.
10:35: I have single-handedly eaten about a third of the party’s pizza rolls and people are judging.
10:36: Realize that a certain column resembles a stripper pole and I try an impromptu spin but go a little too fast and fly off, landing on ol’ lazy eye.
10:57: Mean cool kid (or maybe his little brother, I honestly have no idea) asks me if I’m okay. I blame my behavior on caring TOO much about poverty, then mention that I go to Yale now, and then throw up on his shoes.
11:00: I am escorted away from the reunion knowing that I’ve made quite the impression.