Last night, I went to the graduation/pinning of the new nursing class at Johnson County Community College. I only went because one of my coworkers was graduating, not because I'm horribly interested in seeing a bunch of graduate nurses.
In the grand scheme of graduations, this was incredibly boring. Almost two hours sitting in Yardley Hall, and the only break from the norm was when the photographer fell off the stage (she wasn't hurt). Immediately following was the stale joke of "is there a nurse in the house?"
For the most part, it was one great, big advertisement at how wonderful their school was. Bleh. Even my coworker (the one who graduated) was happy the whole thing was over and done with...especially the nursing school part. I remember how that felt.
It made me reflect back on my pinning ceremony. Crammed into the Uptown, hot as hell, some asshats in the audience that wouldn't shut up and kept screaming. The guy we hired to do sound sucked ass. Afterwards, there was cake and punch and a couple thoughtless, greedy pigs (who were also classmates) made off with anything that wasn't nailed down: flowers, plants, centerpieces, and one family even ran off with a whole damn sheet cake. What can I say? I attended an inner city college, where sense of entitlement runs rampant, and parking becomes much easier after the grant/loan checks have been disbursed.
After the ceremony, Red (who also attended) and myself went to Houlihans by Oak Park Mall. We sat at the bar area and had drinks and appetizers. It starts getting louder, and louder, and louder. So loud, I couldn't even hear what she was trying to tell me half the time. Anytime I saw she opened her mouth and said something, I had to yell, "WHAT?!?" She'd repeat it three more times before giving up. That's how loud it was.
At one point, I looked around and realized that we were probably the oldest people there. At 32, that's kind of scary. Judging from the looks of some of the patrons, I'm guessing that checking IDs that night wasn't exactly a priority, because we're fairly certain that 25% of those there were not even 21.
One of which included the table next to us, where sat a little blonde with the biggest fake hooters I've ever seen. High school graduation present, perhaps? She kept glancing over to me throughout the night. I think because she was wondering if my boobs were real. Yes, dear, they are real. Some women just know how to grow 'em, I guess.
Mark my words, we'll be seeing her in Playboy or The Bachelor sometime down the road...or maybe both.