The Way We Were

I was at my dad's house today while he was getting his Tivo hooked up. It took a really long time, and I left and got my brakes fixed (which: EIGHTY-SIX DOLLARS FOR BOTH FRONT TIRES/WHEREEVER THEY ARE!!! I CAN TOTALLY AFFORD THAT!!) and then came back and they still weren't done, and it turns out that the receiver was broken or something, I don't know, so they left.

BUT.

The guy who was doing the installation? Apparently he knows Joon and me from high school. Specifically, from being in the marching band. And when he left? My dad goes, "That was Joe Schmoe; did you know him?" And I said, "No," because our band had about 150 people in it, and by the time I was a senior I stopped paying attention to the newbies. But then I did that huge gasping realization thing where your eyes bug out and you start coughing really fakely because ... I did know him. I TOTALLY knew him; I just didn't recognize him because, you know, we've grown up, and it's been twelve years since I graduated, and how could I be expected to remember him?

Before I do the big reveal, I feel it's only fair that I tell you that I did not dress for the day's activities. I was wearing jeans and a ratty old sweater that is, like, six times too big (it is from the fat days, but it's purple so I kept it), and I hadn't curled my hair or paid attention to my makeup so OF COURSE I would run into Someone From My Past today.

So who is Joe Schmoe? Actually, he's nobody really important. He's really just a short side-trip on the big roadmap that is my life.

However, I took that side-trip on a bus--a band bus, to be exact--in which I totally made out with him after an away football game.

Ah, memories.