Partying and Parting
I went last night to the first ever class reunion I have ever gone to. I’ve read something about these gatherings, and they generally take place after college, and after a multiple of five years. I wonder who made up those rules.
The reunion was held at a pizza place near where the Pig lives (he didn’t attend because of The Name List Of Doom) and cost me ten bucks for four slices of various pizzas, all the Coke I could drink, a bowl of soup, and a few pieces of garlic bread. Quite worth it in my sight.
It was nice to meet all my old classmates and find out what they’ve been doing; apparently, I was the only one there apart from Jack who’s about to leave the island soon. Those who were going overseas must’ve made a pact to leave as early as possible.
I also took some time to discuss a few academic questions with Kelvin and Herr Robson, and apparently they agree (without knowing it, of course) with my mother: I should take Biology instead of Further Math in the A Levels. They also agreed that I should have taken the A Levels here, but the course fees in KL are about one thousand bucks less than here. Of course the hostel fees more than make up for that, but that’s life for you. And besides, my mother thinks I need to grow up and stop depending on her for everything.
And, of course, you can’t learn that by living on the same landmass as your parent. So I’m hereby legally banished from my house and family to go out and grow out of my old childish habits. I daresay I have lots of those—and I’m sure my classmates would agree!—but I still am going to miss the comforts of home life.
The class T-shirts are supposed to be out and distributed by the 25th or 26th; three days or so before I go. I hope this batch turns out right; in Form Three, Jack (I think) also had the idea for a class shirt, but the design he submitted and the design actually printed were worlds apart. I’ve never worn that shirt; it’s still in its original plastic wrapping, and probably will stay that way for a very long time. Even I, who have no fashion sense at all, do have some esthetic consciousness, you know.
Of course, the more I think about it the more I wish I weren’t leaving everything I’ve been so familiar with for the last seven years; KL has changed a lot since I left, and I’m not even sure I’ll be able to find my way around, not to mention the thought of running around the campus on foot for the next one and a half years! I am most certainly going to have to find someone with a car to befriend and take advantage of.
At least, until I finish my driving lessons. I’m surprised, actually, that more of my ex-classmates haven’t learned driving yet; I’d have thought that the average teenager just burns with desire to get behind some wheel or other and drive him/herself to oblivion. (That explains the Government’s intention to raise the limit to 21 years old.) I’m not an average teenager, obviously, so don’t even ask why I wasn’t pestering for driving lessons the moment I could.
All in all, the reunion was very enjoyable; especially as it gave me a chance to ask Pooh for a book she recently read and posted about (that’s how I know she had it). She declined—some people can be so selfish!—but at least she offered to exchange it for the Da Vinci Code if I ever get it.
The reunion was very nice, but it only drove home the impression that we are all about to go our separate ways and are unlikely ever to set eyes on each other again. It was enjoyable, true, but I see it as a kind of hail-and-farewell party. I’m not at all likely ever to see any of my ex-classmates again, and that’s the way I suppose it should be.
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