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Most of the high schools in the area graduated their classes this weekend. As a popular member of the area, I was invited to attend several parties. I use the term “popular” very lightly, very, very lightly. Almost as light as Splenda or helium. Or a mix of the two; which I think is actually a defined and manufactured drug. But anyways.

I certainly made it to the JF graduation because that was my high school of the good years. High school graduations are, in some respects, an unofficial reunion for prior graduates. I saw many people from my graduating class, but less from earlier classes. The “reunion” aspect much dwindle through the seniority of classes - I suppose people who graduated twenty years ago from their high school don’t continue to attend the commencements. I would hope not. That’s almost the same type of bizarre commitment that some people exhibit when then tirelessly turn up at high school football games, even though they graduated years ago long past. Even I never actually went to high school football games when I was in high school; and I certainly don’t plan on making a habit of that now that I’m a VT student, no matter how much it is pressured upon me.

Of the parties that I visited today, one brought back an ole’ time trait and generic responsibility that I thought was forever gone. It was at BRCC with a bunch of people, and there was a sound system set up, and there was no music playing. And it was suggested that I play some music. Me?! What…why me? Naturally, they were thinking back to my days of DJ-ing, as it may be, and just assumed that it’s something that stuck. Well, you don’t call people “fat” just because they were fat babies. Or you don’t try and hand crank your engine to start just because in the past that was the practice. However, with technology now on my side (and the days of hauling around 20-30 pounds of CDs long gone), I grabbed my iPod, found some soft dance music, and put it on as an ambient background. People were pleased, and I was clear of anxiety. It’s good to have an iPod.

But my luck was soon to fade. On the way to another party, I came to a stoplight. A four lane halt in my direction - one for left turn, one for right turn, and two straight lanes. I was in the left straight lane. There was a large, service-esque truck driving behind me, the kind that have double rear wheels and have tool boxes covering the truck bed. It was still approaching the light I was waiting at. Still approaching. Hey, it doesn’t look like this truck is slowing down. Of course, this is all happening in slow motion and the important and meaningful points in my life were flashing before my eyes. I started to lean into the clutch to ready it for evasive action. Then the gear gets ready in first, and I’m just about to rev and jump into the intersection which, by the way, had moving traffic in it but still had some open spots I could surprise people with. In the faintest of the last second, the driver slammed his brakes and slid into the lane beside me, conveniently dragging himself to a stop directly beside me.

I looked up at him. He was trying to light a cigarette. Lovely. I just looked at him and he never returned my soft and comforting gaze. Perhaps, it was totally soft and comforting, but it wasn’t an aggressive gaze. Then he was muttering something to himself. The kind of mutter that makes the cigarette jump up and down at the end while never launching from the lips. It must take true control to manage that. I just wished he had managed his driving abilities at that same tier. Oh well.

It was a good day of party hopping. To be sure.

This entry was posted on Saturday, June 11th, 2005 at 10:46 pm and is filed under . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.