Last week I got a forward from my puta J asking “are you going to this?” to an invite from our high school that was like, “I wanted to invite you and a guest to join us on Wednesday, October 12th for dinner to thank you for your support of Greenhill School and reconnect with fellow alumni.” Um, am I going? I didn’t even get an invite, and I was confused and offended, despite the fact that I knew they were just hosting this dinner only to get money from alums. I mean, I was 30% of the reason why the school’s rankings were so high in everything (I was Asianly ambitious in high school, naturally), so why wasn’t I on their free dinner mailing list (answer: probably because I don’t give).
Anyway I thought about it for two seconds and was like fuck it, they owe me a free dinner, and I made the decision to get myself invited. I emailed the alumni director demanding I be put on the mailing list, and in contrast to my bitchiness she was incredibly nice and overly excited that I had reached out and encouraged me to let her know of any and all other alumni she had left off the mailing list. I took that quite literally and proceeded that very day to forward the dinner invitation to 20 other people who were three years younger than me. Interestingly enough, I recently reconnected with high school class of ’05/college ’09 people through Texas sports watching in NYC. I don’t give a shit about Texas sports, but I do enjoy beer, wings and a room full of dudes, so obviously I partake. Also ’07-09 have always been the better classes over ’06 so I was confident that when our powers combined we could turn this stuffy, “business attire” reunion dinner into a complete open bar shitshow.
So the dinner was this past Wednesday, and we successfully turned it into a complete open bar shitshow. Arriving to Trattoria Dell’ Arte in Midtown West, I was curious who all would be at this event. Would other random people from my high school be there that I hadn’t seen in a decade? Has anyone gotten fat? Has anyone gone gay? Answer: nope. I get there and literally the only people there are myself, my puta J, the headmaster (who hadn’t aged a day in the 10 years I hadn’t seen him), my choir teacher (who of course before he even says hi to me is like ARE YOU STILL PLAYING THE PIANO?!?!?), and then the 20 class of 09ers I had invited to this dinner. Proud.
I thought this dinner would be family style, but it was quite the nice sit-down dinner with the open bar I expected, a starters table with plenty of antipasti, and then penne pasta to start, three choices of entree, and cannoli and chocolate mousse for dinner. I had a glass of red wine during the headmaster’s speech, a glass during antipasti, a glass with my penne, a glass with my medium rare steak, and a glass with my chocolate mousse and I was having a grand old time. I suddenly really liked my high school that night. Probably a temporary feeling.
Poverexic in NYC 