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High School Reunion Horror Stories: Class Warfare

This weekend, so-called adults will have awkward high school reunions all across America. We asked you for your worst high school reunion horror stories. We're publishing our favorites during the holiday. Here's one, from reader Walt.

15 years ago my fiancée and I attended our five-year high school reunions on back-to-back weekends. We grew up in the same town however attended rival high schools. My reunion was a low-key keg of beer gathering in the cafeteria of the high school. We had dated in high school, so most of my classmates remembered my soon-to-be wife and we had an OK time catching up.


The following weekend we attended my future wife's reunion at the city golf club. Not a high-class affair but still significantly more adult than a keg in the cafeteria, and this was reflected in the ticket cost. Being a recent college graduate, about to be married, and cheap to the core, I was annoyed and used this as an excuse to crap all over her school for the entire evening. The mood was set. After a brief circuit of the event she ended up in the group of single classmates who I didn't know very well. I excused myself to find the bar and ran into a good friend in the hall. We dispatched his wife to say hi to my fiancée and inform her we were going to grab a beer or two and meet up later for the dinner portion of the evening. I was determined to get my entire entrance fee back in beer and hit the bar hard.

At some point we grabbed clubs from my trunk and hopped the fence onto the course. It was too dark to play so we elected to have a putting competition on the greens by the clubhouse. Easy access to the bar and golf proved to make for a wonderful evening. Three hours later my very upset fiancée found me incoherently drunk and attempting to cram all the pin markers and flags from the course into my trunk. I had claimed them as my putting competition prize and had in fact never returned to the reunion. She had been abandoned in front of all her HS friends and was "disappointed."

Since we were now living two hours from where we grew up, she elected to drive to her parents' house in town so I could sleep it off. We could head home in the morning. We arrived at her parents' house, where I loudly expressed the need to spend the night in their daughter's bed and headed upstairs. In the upstairs hallway my drunken shamble played Godzilla on the Tokyo of her mother's curio shelves and assorted statuary. I left behind a trail of destruction, much broken glass, and passed out to the wailing of my fiancée's mother lamenting the loss of gifts from her late mother. Somehow I managed to sleep as my future father-in-law ran the shop-vac in the hall. I woke up late the next morning and was dreading the trip downstairs to see her family. I managed to trip on the first step and fell down the entire flight of stairs. The house was deadly quiet as I untangled myself from the bottom of the stairs when the silence was broken by my now mother-in-law; "Is he STILL drunk?!" We left without another word being uttered by anyone in the house.


My mother-in-law will still occasionally bring it up 15 years later. We have not attended another reunion since.

Image: Mikdam/Stockfresh.

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