The dinner on Saturday was supposed to be an outdoor affair under a grove of trees with a live band. I had wanted to arrive fashionably late, but my normally tardy husband was intent on being punctual for all of the events. Somehow, I managed to delay him by 15 minutes for the dinner.
We I went straight to the cash bar and ordered drinks. I took one sip of my mini, tequila-lite margarita, when an obnoxious clap of thunder nearly caused a very nasty spill on my fresh clothes. Big drops of rain began pelting us through the thick canopy of leaves. Lightning decided to make an unwanted appearance, so I immediately hauled my hiney into the adjacent restaurant, as did everyone else.
If we had arrived late as I wanted, we could have avoided the horrible hair styles we were left with for the remainder of the evening.
The storm passed quickly, but the musicians had already packed it in since there were more storms coming. The restaurant staff worked furiously to towel off the outdoor tables for us, so we could rush back to shovel in the barbecue chicken, brisket, salad, and hominy before the next storm. I’m still not sure about that hominy. A baked potato would have been more to my liking.
The reunion organizer announced that the band was moving to an indoor facility in town. I asked DD, as graciously as possible, if he could take me back to the hotel with my bad hair, muddy shoes, and soggy clothes and just leave me there. No way was I going to listen to lame music and attempt endless small talk looking like that. He understood, saying how I had been a good sport, yadda, yadda, yadda. I spent the rest of the evening watching The Ugliest Dog Contest on Animal Planet and crying my eyes out while DD was dancing it up with a former cheerleader.
DD was undoubtedly having a grand time. By the 4th event, as he sat eating breakfast, I asked him what was so funny about his eggs. Okay, so I knew he wasn’t finding humor in the eggs, but he looked a little silly chewing with that grin tattooed on his face. He said he was having the best time ever – that this reunion was right up there with our trip to Italy. Um, not sharing that sentiment, but okay. I’m happy that he had such a wonderful experience and reconnected with his classmates, but I never want to participate in something like that ever again.