On Sunday, a member of the synagogue who, strangely, turned out to have gone to high school with me and indeed graduated at the same time (the graduating class was about 1500 people!) asked me if I planned to go to the 40th reunion. The thought of it was repulsive. I hated that place so much when I was there. I didn't like much of anyone around me. Those were the days when I was spending lunch periods taking furtive bites of a sandwich in a toilet stall because every time I actually went to the lunch room I got my ass thrown down the stairs by a massive bully. This went on for the entire year, with everyone, security guards included, watching, and my parents not wanting to hear me "carry tales."
I tried desperately to transfer to an alternative high school since my grades weren't good enough to go to the "good school," Girls' High, because of a learning disability in math (undiagnosed and unaided).
I would never want to go back there, not the least because it is an awful area, though I could go stay with my friend Linda. I wouldn't want to drive there. It would remind me too much of my early years of driving with my father, where he would yell at me while I was driving on the turnpike and stomp on my feet.
I can safely say that I would not enjoy anything about going to such a reunion and it certainly wouldn't be something I would pay lots of money to do, especially now.