Dont Mince Words

Jackie and Marna, college suitemates

Months ago I was convinced I should return to Virginia for Longwood College’s Decade of the ’80s Reunion.  The last time I went, it was the ’90s and I learned beer bongs were out and keg stands were in.  (Some nice frat boys taught me the basics.  They thought I was classy because my bottle of Jim Beam had a pouring spout.)  To prepare for this trip, I did a liver cleanse and brought lots of TylenolPM to combat redeye jet lag.

This reunion was much different.  Everyone who graduated prior to 1984 looked old.  And I mean real old.  A decade older than the rest of us.  It was freaky and several of my friends noticed this rapid decelleration.  This is when I was thankful I live in vapid California.  Everyone told me I hadn’t changed, which was sweet, but I wasn’t sure if it was because I looked good or I always had a beer in my hand.

I soon learned I had changed.  Jackie and I organized an after-party at a local bar.  At 1 a.m. we both admitted we were tired, left, and went back to the hotel.  You know you are getting old when you can’t make it to last call and TylenolPM and a hotel bed sound good.

I had one of those oh-no-you-didn’t experiences today in the bank. I was waiting in line when I realized a classic song from my youth was on the sound system.

Why would this be disturbing? The ‘80s have been “in” for several years now. Well, it was The Clash. It would have been funny, in a bank, if they were playing “Brand new Cadillac.” But no, this was “Rock the Casbah” and it wasn’t the Musak version – it was the true Clash version.

I stood there bobbing my head and humming the lyrics and realized the last time I really, really enjoyed this song was in college. I was at a frat party, dancing in beer puddles and wearing my Converse Chuck Taylor hightops, a pencil skirt, a big white shirt, and a black hip belt. My hair was an asymmetrical mess: the Thompson Twins meets A Flock of Seagulls.

The teller called me as I was finishing my lyrics. “You know, I was a DJ for two colleges. If the ‘80s are helping you sell product here, I can help you with your play list,” I told her.

She smiled and handed me my three rolls of quarters. I realize seeing things come back around is part of getting older. Maybe I should recapture my youth and find my skirt. Time for a trip to The Gap.