Re-Union of the Snake

"The union of the snake is on the climb.. It’s gonna race it’s gonna break -Gonna move up to the borderline.." Duran Duran from "Union of the Snake"

The nurse that hands out meds here at the Asylum was talking on her blue tooth about her high school reunion when she sauntered in to dose yours truly. Bless her for the happy little pills. But her phone conversation got me thinking about my own 10 year reunion.

I hadn’t planned on attending the quasi-wretch inducing event. Some people look forward to these soiree’s. Some want to get back in touch with their long lost "BFF", as they robotically wrote in the yearbook. Some want to see who has pushed the level of drug abuse to a Keith Richards like level. Some just want to say "Fuck you" to the person they were too intimidated by in their youth. I didn’t care. But a budy talked me into it.

There we were, a small band of my misfit, outcast chums were huddled around a circular table, sipping our over-priced imports, and talking a Nebraska farm-sized load of shit. There was a lot of "Look’s like Tina couldn’t push back from the buffet", "Check out the hairline on Johnny Football, Rogaine anyone?", "5 kids! It’s a vagina not a clown car!". Amongst all this defamatory commentary I spied the object of my prep school crush walking into the room. "Adrianna still wears leather pants." I quipped at the site of her. This statement turned the head of every Y chromosone at the table. It also caused an array of domestic violence as wives slapped, pinched or kicked their non-signficant others. Many were the nights that thinking of a spa side game of "Flick the Clit" with her fueled my adolescent assent into manhood. And it could not be denied. Adrianna was still hotter than Georgia asphault.

The vision of her still looking as tasty as she did covered in Adam Ant make-up in Social Studies made my nicotine level plummet. Nirvana awaited in an open courtyard where I railed down smokes faster than Tony Montana draining a gram vial. Somewhere between emphysema and lung cancer I was joined by my mastabutory muse and her husband. I still call him The Lucky bastard. I say hello, introducing myself to The Lucky Bastard. As I shake his hands he asks if I was friends with his wife in school. What could I say, "No, but I jerked off thinking about her alot." But she saved me from the embarrassment of admitting that she was the sole member in my MHS spank bank. "We weren’t really friends, but he used to drive by my house all the time." Holy Shit! Busted!

There was no choice but to fess up like a criminal at the end of a CSI: Miami episode. She responded by putting a bullet in my head. "How come you never stopped?" Was she fucking kidding me? This woman was the personification of sexy, still is, but she was like Kryptonite to me in school. Too hot to touch, made me weak to be around her.

Standing there I realized that I was a coward. "Dear Wizard, I need the nerve.. Signed Lion." So right there I manned up, "If it’s alright with The Lucky Bastard, I’d really like to dance with you, you know, to make up for the stalking." And we danced. To Duran Duran (one of the hazards of graduating in the 80’s). It was a dream come true.

Have you ever had a crush you never fessed up to? Ever felt the sweet redemption of confronting your teenage nemesis? Ever get to dance with "The One"? I wanna hear your stories, it makes the days in the Asylum go by faster.

Dixie Cup of Love: To Adrianna for being an Ant fan and my dream girl.