Going Home

What is it about going back home that freaks me out? I finally gotten to the point, at 40, where I don't revert back into an 8-year-old every time I visit my parents (although that is my preferred maturity level). A couple of weeks ago I went to a wedding down in Springfield, my home for some relatively formative years -- work, teaching, dancing, finishing college and a broken heart (or 2) -- it was an experience.

I haven't been back to visit in probably 5 or 6 years. Not for any particular reason, just life. So, going back now had me a little nervous. One: the dynamic between all the ballerina personalities is always tricky. Two: I'm about 15 pounds heavier and way out of shape. Three: I'm the only one not married and without kids. Four...let's just deal with those three.

Well, I received quite a welcome. My former director, a couple of old roomates..all ballerinas at one point, all jumped up to hug me. They didn't care about any of the stuff I was worried about. They were just happy to see me. Since they were all in the wedding party -- oh, by the way, I bought the happy couple a lovely bottle of Veuve for a gift not knowing that the groom is a Mormon and doesn't drink!! -- I sat in the cynical pew with a couple more Springfield Ballet Co (SBC) vets. While forcefully chewing gum and trying not to "comment" on the sappy, crying freak show that was happening on the alter, I heard one of my friends whisper "Make me puke!". I'm not alone...

Don't get me wrong. I'm glad the bride has found love (again) and I wish her all the happiness in the world -- I just have an aversion to the over-the-top PDA that was the wedding. The entire thing was overproduced IMHO (way theatrical), but what do I know. I'm missing that gene (maybe I am a dude?).

After much drinking - on the ballerina side of the reception, the reception came to an end (oh yeah, it was cash bar! Two things to always mention when inviting someone to your wedding...1. Mormon 2. Cash Bar), but we didn't stop drinking. Ending the night at some random hall in Sherman, IL with a live band, I had officially survived the day. The hungover drive home -- which ended up taking 2+ extra hours because I missed an exit and went to Indiana -- is another story.