Where did five years go? (Part II)

There are moments, brief and fleeting, granted, but moments nonetheless, where I think that I have grown up and changed. This past weekend proved that at best, the only thing I've learned or changed in five years is that I no longer believe that fleece goes with everything.

Around 12:45 am on Friday night I rolled onto the campus of my alma mater. I was exhausted after a long day of traveling including three hours on a plane and 4.5 hours in a car. I ambled across the campus green towards my class tent and found a scene entirely reminiscent of my college days: Bon Jovi blaring on the speakers, drunk white kids singing along at the top of their lungs, beer bottles strewn about the ground, and fleece, fleece everywhere.

My roommate for the weekend (and most importantly, my friend) M found me and on went the night. There was a little more dancing in the tent, some double-fisting to catch up with the crowd, and two frat basements. In frat basement #2, while I was talking to an old friend, M witnessed a guy whip out his dick and stick it in a cup of beer on a beer pong table. This occurred in a crowded room. When we inquired of a brother in the house if this was common his response was: "Well, you know how it is hard to chug a cold beer? If you stick the warmest part of your body in the beer, it warms up really quickly."

Evidently this passes as courtesy towards one's pong partner. I certainly hope no one was ever that courteous towards me without my knowledge.

Saturday morning brought a mild hangover and one of the best omelets and doughnuts I have ever eaten in town at a small greasy spoon diner. Good God do I miss that place! I took a long walk around town, into a small public garden where I once spent some blissful yet illicit afternoons in a gazebo in the woods. I was flooded with memories and the magic of the place, but I did not linger long. I went there to say good-bye, and I did.

I wandered past an off-campus house where I lived for six months with a boyfriend. It's now a hole in the ground, demolished and making way for who knows what manner of improvement.

The rest of the day was spent catching up with old friends at a barbecue on the football field, at reunions in sororities, and other activity offices, followed by cocktails in the tent and a dinner dance. I don't remember how much I drank, but I know that I started at 6 pm and didn't quit until at least 2 am. You can imagine the hangover on Sunday.

I made up with a couple of people with whom I had parted on bad terms. After five years, I found everyone to be magnanimous. Very little ill-will, pomposity, or anything of the sort. Sure there were still assholes to be found. But by and large, everyone seemed happy, healthy, and pleased to relive their youth for a weekend.

I kept asking M all weekend if we realized how beautiful the campus was when we attended there. She said she thought so. I know everyone says college is the best four years of your life, and while it's going on, you hope to God that life gets better than this. But five years out, it looks pretty good to me. There's a magic about the place that does not fade with passing years. I remember the exact spot where I saw one friend or another for the first time; where a boy dumped me; where another boy picked me up. I can't begin to imagine a place where more memories fit so vividly into such a small space.

Sunday afternoon sitting at tables on the lawn infront of the library with M & M (another friend) I was hungover and basking in the sun. Part of me wanted to stay longer and soak up as much of the place as I could. But instead I decided to head out.

When I graduated, I drove one more time around the green, crying and playing The Beatles "In My Life" on the car stereo. Sunday I exited with less fanfare, without tears, watching the school disappear in the rear view mirror. Unlike five years ago, I knew my life lay elsewhere and it was time to go.