There's a saying that friends help friends move, good friends help friends move bodies. In the case of my great and good friend, my old college roommate The Bronson from Wisconsin, well let's just say that I will be picking him up from LaGuardia Airport this morning and the two of us will brave I-95 on Memorial Day weekend to travel to the Prestigious Bastion of Prestige where we met.
The best thing about reunion is the fact that a single, silly line will reduce everybody to paroxysms of laughter because we share a common store of inside jokes, of shared experiences. For instance, I can greet my freshman roommate with the question "Hey, dude, what the fuck?" and he will be rolling on the floor- it was the common greeting of an ultra-rich foreign-born suitemate who attended a New England boarding school and was taught a very idiosyncratic version of the vernacular.
It's amazing how the years can just drop off, and everybody becomes a goofy teenager for a glorious weekend.