High School Revisited

He’s worked on some of the coolest films released in the past eight years. He’s got a great job and a great haircut. He’s smart, worldly and incredibly funny. He has achieved a level of cool in adulthood that his high school peers would not have believed – his love of math and physics branding him odd and unpopular in their eyes. Twenty years ago, those who noticed him thought he was a geek. They called him a nerd. Others simply didn’t know he was there. Yet, today, people will pay a decent amount of money just to hear him talk about what he does. At a gathering of industry peers, people feel lucky to be sitting at his table. His job has permitted him to live in Hawaii, Los Angeles and San Francisco. When he thinks back to his adolescence, he must doubtlessly feel vanquished, vindicated, validated.

He is in Santa Barbara, attending a conference. During a break, he takes a stroll along the garden path. He stares out at the Pacific Ocean and feels the warmth of the sun on his face. He smiles and then realizes that he should probably get back lest he miss the beginning of the next session - one he is eager to attend. He jogs back to the meeting room and speeds up a bit when he realizes the course is already in session. He runs across the back of the room heading towards his seat. And then, the unthinkable. The teenager he once was finds his way back into the adult’s stride. He thinks, “No, let this not happen” even as his feet betray him. He feels himself start to fall. His momentum is too great – he cannot correct his misstep.

Time slows painfully down as he feels himself sprawling to the floor. He pushes out his arms and breaks his fall, spinning himself onto his back. He looks up to see three faces frozen in horror, staring directly at him. He does not rush to get up. He lies back, propped upon one elbow, and slowly shakes his head. He smiles to indicate that he is not injured – three faces smile back sympathetically. He holds one hand over his eyes and sighs deeply. He picks himself up off the ground and walks slowly, deliberately towards his seat. The presenter raises a subject he has been struggling with at work. As his attention begins to shift from his embarrassment to the topic, he experiences a moment of gratitude to the speaker whose subject has kept 60 sets of eyes turned away from his spectacular fall. Before his attention is fully captivated by the presenter, he thinks, “Note to self: don’t run.”

Girls Just Wanna...

They sit together in the living room. Their bellies full from the meal they’ve just shared, their spirits high from the wine they’ve enjoyed with it. They are a gathering of smart, sophisticated, professional women, brought together in celebration of friendship and birthdays shared. They are the kinds of women who go to work all week long and make important decisions. They are dependable and reliable. Some manage teams of employees who look to them for guidance. Most of them pay their bills on time. Some of them are parents and are responsible for guiding their children through life. All normally conduct themselves with grace and dignity. They are the kinds of people who appear to have it all together.

The hostess turns on the CD player and inserts a collection of 80s tunes for the group’s listening pleasure. Most of the women remember this music from high school dances or University pub-crawls. Madonna’s “Holiday” comes on and a few of them get up to dance goofily for the amusement of their friends. Holding imaginary microphones, they belt out the song while doing their best material girl imitations. Everyone laughs. “You spin me right ‘round” comes on, everyone says “oh, yeah!” and a few more get up to join the dancing. More wine is opened, more singing follows, more dance moves are broken out. Someone does the moonwalk. Someone does a bridge. Someone starts a congo line and everyone joins in.

Three have taken stripping classes and break out their stripper moves. A stripping lesson follows. Everyone participates with varying degrees of flexibility and ease. People fall. Someone leaves the room and comes back wearing a pair of hockey pants. Someone wraps a pashmina around her head like a turban and moves across the floor. Someone else thinks that’s the best thing she’s ever seen and does the same. Someone leaps onto the couch, arms spread wide and says, “look at me, I’m Tom Cruise!” Two women exit the bedroom wearing bikinis on top of their jeans and t-shirts. Everyone applauds.

Eight women are dancing with reckless abandon, sweating their hearts out and laughing so hard that each occasionally has to stop dancing to watch her friends reach new heights of silliness while she catches her breath. It is pure amusement. It is happiness unleashed. More than once, a dancer stops to shout out “I love my friends” and everyone agrees. It is a night that recalls memories decades old and yet is so different. Gone is the angst of the teenager. Gone is the self-consciousness of adolescence. Instead, there is only the joy of knowing who you are and how lucky you are to have people in your life who will shake their maracas with you for the sheer pleasure of it. Indeed, I love my friends.