A more perfect reunion - what to expect from high-school class reunions

Men's Fitness, Oct, 1998 by John Tomkiw

There's nothing like a high-school reunion to bring out your, uh, creative side

We were at lunch. Tom put down his sandwich and swallowed hard: "I just realized it's only two more years till our high-school reunion," he said, blinking. "Damn! I gotta make something of myself ... and quick."

Ah, yes, there's nothing quite like the panic-inducing spectacle that is the high-school reunion. Like it or not, high school is what truly shaped us. Those were our Wonder Bread years, where we grew and dreamed and planned, hoping that things would get infinitely better and the zits would soon go away. It was our training ground for Real Life.

So when it comes time to reconvene with old friends, tormentors, ex-girlfriends and unattainable beauties, we want to show everyone that we've done it, that we've lived up to our potential. For some, the high-school reunion serves as a venue for sweet revenge. For some, it validates what they suspected all along: The cool people weren't really that cool, things weren't all that critical, and life after high school is undoubtedly better.

Yet, you want to go. Call it curiosity. Or masochism. Either way, here's what you can expect as you enter that VFW hall or banquet facility or high-school gym:

* To be stalked by a guy who refuses to wear his name badge, betting you can't remember his name.

* A desperate, beery apology for something you have no recollection of, from someone you haven't thought of in years.

* The chilling realization early in the evening that the one person you wanted to see lives in Caracas and won't be attending.

* The even more chilling realization that there's a reason - why you haven't kept in touch with all these people.

Still want to go? Then here's what to watch for from the various high-school archetypes, so you can work on your sympathetic patter before they corner you.

The Jock

Ten-year reunion: Still works out. Plays league softball. Works as vice president of sales at Mahoney Motorwerks. Organizes an impromptu morning-after touch-football game for reunion attendees.

Twenty-year reunion: Forty pounds overweight. Drinks way too much, indiscriminately yelling "Party!" throughout the night. Works as salesman in the used-car lot at Mahoney Motorwerks.

The Loner

Ten-year reunion: He's dead.

Twenty-year reunion: Still dead.

The Prom Queen

Ten-year reunion: Shows she's still got it - wearing a backless, low-plunging evening gown to the affair. Talks enthusiastically about getting her real-estate license and finally moving out of her parents' house. Disappears early in the evening with ex-high school flame, reemerging later with mussed hair and smeared make-up. Crying softly at the bar by evening's end.

Twenty-year reunion: Married. Four kids. Works as an aerobics instructor at the Pump You Up Fitness Center. Disappears early in the evening with ex-high school flame, reemerging later with mussed hair and smeared makeup. Crying uncontrollably at the bar by evening's end.

The Nerd

Ten-year reunion: Contrary to movie cliches, he doesn't grow up to be a gajillionaire; he just hides his nerddom better. Still harbors resentment toward the Jock, who pantsed him during sophomore year.

Twenty-year reunion: Comfortable with himself, he talks openly to classmates about collecting Star Wars figures with his son. Fades into the woodwork midway through the evening. You'll never see him again.

The Debutante

Ten-year reunion: Living at the family summer home in Boca Raton. Works hard on her backhand. Looks great.

Twenty-year reunion: Daddy lost the family fortune in a hotel-development deal gone awry. Still working on her backhand, only at the YMCA.

Still want to attend? Then, friend, you need to prepare - because sometimes a life needs a little nudging to spice it up. That's why you should consult Mr. Tomkiw's Handy Indenti-Kit[TM], a quick and easy system to change your identity, if only for one night. These identities are guaranteed - guaranteed to get you noticed, guaranteed to one-up anyone using the reunion to showcase their incredible good fortune and, most important, guaranteed to keep your classmates talking about you for years to come. 1

Close Associate of Mr. Gambino

First, dress in a shiny suit. Wear a pinkie ring. Bring along that behemoth Teddy from the loading dock at work to act as your bodyguard. Dress him in a shiny suit. Make him wear dark shades. Indoors. When someone rushes up in greeting, make sure Teddy strong-arms them and pats them down before you can hug your hellos. Dismiss the pat-down as an "occupational hazard," but don't elaborate.

Drop names like Joey No-Nose, Two-Finger Charlie and Vinnie the Tuna into oblique conversations, like so: "The other day, I was taking care of some receipts when Joey No-Nose says that the boss had a job for us in Jersey. So naturally, I go out and put a tarp down in the trunk of my car. There's no way I'm gonna let some mook bleed all over the inside of my Caddy, you know what I mean?"

When someone snaps a picture, cover your face. Or better yet, have Teddy grab the camera, roughly pulling the film from it before handing it back to the stunned shutterbug. As you bid your farewells, say you need to get up early tomorrow to "bury something."