It has arrived – my 10 year college reunion. I knew that even if I was living in a papier mache shack in Berlin, I was going to make it back to Chicago to hang out for a few hours with a bunch of faces I only passed on the quads or glimpsed in the library or never spoke to in class, eat hors d’oeuvres (that took a long time trying to type correctly) and pretend for a few days that things never got a little weird.
Browsing photos from last year’s alumni weekend, they seem to have partied in an athletic center transformed into a DNA helix and a “renegade cell” (Core Bio in the house). This year, its suppose to be a magical city, I’m thinking Aladdin or Venice. Preppy guys that seemed a little too Princeton to be U of C singing or chanting in a quartet, ties with passion, where were these peacocks when I when I was there. A crowd of girls wearing uniform black cocktail dresses, embracing each other in ecstatic joy with confetti for atmosphere.
I remember walking into Rockefeller Chapel for the first time with the rest of the Class of 2002 with parents in tow on the first day of orientation and the beginning of Dean Boyer’s Welcoming address to us, that our class was special, 2002 was a palindrome , it meant the same thing read in any direction, backwards or forward. Ominous. This statement brought laughter, amazement and WTF expressions. I also remember walking into the chapel again for our Farewell address by Prof. Gunning as he painted a cinematic scene of a film noir beginning with a man in a trench coat, collars up, walking hastily in the rain, his sole possession- a rolled up U of C diploma in his right hand. To summarize the 10 years in between, the hamster says it all.
Its next weekend and I don’t know what to wear.