Homecoming is the strangest ritual.
In its most basic form, it’s a big scam for a school to convince alumni to visit. Somehow or other, we’ve likewise managed to incorporate class performances, a popularity contest (“the Homecoming court”), dress-up days, and a basketball game—which amuses the alumni, but really they’re just here to see how things have changed and to reconnect with old friends. (And, in my case, we can talk about how our class, 1998, won the Homecoming competition all four years. We rocked, you see. But nowadays nobody remembers this.)
I heard from two or three old friends, myself. I may bump into more tonight at the basketball game. I’ll definitely see my sister, who’s visiting, but not really visiting me. (She can see me anytime, whereas she doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to visit college friends).
…Of course, all of this has to take place after class gets out at 9 p.m. That’s right, I have Friday night classes. At least it’s an interesting class; but the idea of Friday night classes at all sucks. Maybe it’s all part of the conditioning that teachers have to get to prepare us for having no social lives. I dunno.