Following a month-long buildup on Facebook, I met up with seven high school friends at a suburban sports bar last night. Throughout the day leading up to the get-together, I was excited, nervous and anxious to see how the event would play out. Would it be awkward? Would we run out of things to say? Would we no longer have anything in common?

I was the first to arrive. I promptly grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a tall vodka and soda. I knew I’d relax after a couple drinks. A few minutes later, the others began to arrive. For 10 minutes, there was a steady stream of hugs and handshakes, smiles and small talk. 

It didn’t take long for my nerves to subside, although I couldn’t help but exclaim at least five times, “This is fucking weird.” Looking around the table at the faces of the people with whom I spent the better part of four years so long ago was a tad surreal. 

For five hours, we reminisced, talked about major events from the past 18 years and passed around family photos. Drinks flowed, as did stories. I haven’t laughed so much in a long time. 

My only regret of the evening was that it took so long to get back together. As the evening wound down, we began making tentative plans to get together again—much much sooner than 18 years from now. 

During the drive home, I smiled with the realization that I still really like these people. I’m glad they were my friends way back in the ’80s, and I’m even happier they’re my friends today.