If you’re looking for me today – and I prefer to think that you will be – I’ll be unavailable.
See that sweating chick over there in the black pants and white button-down shirt? Yeah. That’s me, picking up the abandoned dishes at the graduation buffet, running to get your grandparents another cup of coffee, and furtively checking my watch to see how much time is left.
What? Of course I wish them all the best! Good for you, graduating from high school!
What happened to the good ol’ fashioned graduation party? The one where your mom put out ham sandwiches and potato salad? The one with the keg in the garage and the cigarettes we stole from your dad?
Oh, wait. I think I may have answered my own question.
When I graduated from high school, the legal drinking age was 18. The very next year the age shifted to 19, and just a couple years later it went to 21.
As Maxwell Smart used to say: Missed me by that much.
I’m sure there are still plenty of rowdy graduation parties around – which is, at least in my mind, a fitting way to finish your formative years. To hear some people speak, though, the idea of an 18-year-old drinking several beers and sitting in a garage with a number of other similarly impaired youngsters is a bad thing.
Which brings us back to the catered graduation banquet.
I don’t mind working summer parties, although I must admit I could do without the black pants. It’s harder to keep a smile on your face when you’re starting to overheat, although once the hallucinations kick in it’s actually easier to keep a smile on your face, so it all works out, when you think about it.
So there you go. Well done, high school graduates. Be well. Drive carefully. Enjoy your fresh fruit and sausages.
And don’t let me hear you making fun of my uniform.
3 hours ago