In the course of my life, I have lost several things: love, earrings, cell phones, trivia contests, lip gloss, foolish bets and, oh yeah- my innocense. Please note that until this evening, that list did not include a human being.

So, I’ve lost a friend. Don’t get me wrong – I have had friendships run their course and end. Those “lost” friends continued on their way and save 2 or 3 of them, I wish them the best. This isn’t one of those cases. Perhaps “misplaced” is a better term for the current predicament. D. flew in Thursday from Shanghai for our 10 year college reunion. Hadn’t seen her since way back when. We caught up, traded new stories, looked at pictures and recounted adventures from the mid-nineties. It was a long overdue slumber party.

Everyone met for lunch yesterday afternoon in Framingham before departing for campus where dorm rooms were reserved in our names. My accomodations were made, how you say, last minute – quite literally. I didn’t book in time to do it online and called Alumni Affairs at…. 4:55 PM on Friday. (blush) My room was in the same quad, but a different building.

There was the cocktail reception, class pictures, the always popular “Dance Under the Stars”. (It should technically be called “dance under the tent” now, but I guess that doesn’t flow.) It was weird being back. My last visit was for my oft overlooked 6 year reunion that about 20 of us living in Boston drove in to attend. ‘Crazy’ comes close to describing the events of the weekend. This time was different. The weather probably deterred a couple dozen folks within driving range from jumping off the fence. Either that or they’re too busy mating and having babies.

Last night’s main event started off a little shaky. 3 of the 4 public/social scenarios that tweak me out were present:

1. Waiting in lines – I don’t think I’m above them, but nevertheless – I get antsy. No double fisting drinks allowed and the beer truck lady was yelling at everyone to keep things moving. (FYI, being yelled at gets an honorable mention on my pet peeves list.)
2. Being stepped on. Everybody hates that except folks who have slightly alternative preferences.
3. Being spilled on. Insult meets injury when someone knocks into me, steps on my foot and causes me to spill a portion of MY beer ration down my blouse.

Luckily, there were plenty of restrooms so the set up wasn’t a complete wash. There’s a good chance the above conditions wouldn’t have registered if I hadn’t been so acutely aware that 95% of the people there were born in the (late) 1980s. You always know things are constantly changing but it’s strange to be in a setting that has changed little when life has moved much faster.

It only took two beers to chill me out and finding a few more familiar faces gave fun momentum. Midnight brunch ended it all. Finsy and I giggled/chatted before falling asleep at the reasonable time of 2:30/3:00 AM. Back in the day we’d have still been out, flirting with boys and getting the scoop on after party options as the bar staff pushed everyone out to the street. Even so, it was jarring to be woken at 10 AM for check out. Unfortunately, that is always the time we alums get the boot from our deluxe accomodations.

After I checked out, I went to the diner on Main to say my goodbyes. I made sure D. had a ride back to Boston and the keys to my place. Even having turned in “early” I was in need of several more winks, so I headed home to nap.

Now here’s where things get dicey: as I was about to nod off I got a call from the women’s retail store I work at 10-15 hours a week. (I’d say the name, but I’m pretty sure a smartly dressed flacker in corporate HQ would have no choice but to fill out a purchase order for a contract on my life. Plus- the discount is FAB and I can’t jeopardize that) People were sick and they needed someone to cover last minute. I went in for 3 hours to help out.

My friend does not have a cell phone, and I know I should’ve left a note. Between rushing to get out the door and the residual exhaustion, it slipped my mind. According to my roommate, D. was in the house as of 5 PM and said she was going to go walk around the neighborhood. Around 10:30 PM, I began to worry and called our mutual friend. No word there. In college it wasn’t unusual from D. to disappear for days or weeks at a time. She’d always surface with an interesting story of what she had been up to. Part of her charm is that she’s a wild card. Benevolent, free spirited drifting is her specialty elevated to an art form – covering many continents and all whilest remaining in one piece.

Even though I know this, I worry. At 11 PM, I drove around Davis and Porter Squares. My thinking was that a striking 6′ asian woman with hair all the way down her back would be easy to spot if she were outside a bar having a smoke. No luck. So, I dropped my car in the driveway and stuck my head into all the establishments still open within a 4 block radius. No luck. I even asked some random people on the front porch of the house next store if someone fitting her description had crashed the party. Not out of the question; she makes friends wherever she goes. (BTW- They hadn’t.) What if she doesn’t have my phone number… or address… and took the T somewhere but didn’t know how ungodly early it shuts down???

Every noise in the stairwell sets of my spidey sense. Can you issue an amber alert for someone over the age of 30? I’m seriously considering checking in with the police and it hasn’t even been 12 hours since her last citing. If she doesn’t show by sunrise, her pretty little picture is going to be on a milk carton. Yeah- when I have kids I’m gonna be a bundle of tangled nerves. So, if you see my girl – please tell her to come home… Momma’s worried. :-S

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Tags: Boston, cell phones, cellular telephone, Porter, retail store, Shanghai

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