As befits what was an all-male school, the highlight of my 20th high school reunion occurred in the men's room near the end of the night (with a conversation at the urinals).
Him: "What brings you here?"
Me [assuming he meant something other than the free bar bladder emergency]: "Class of '93."
Him: "'68. We did pretty well: 42 of us graduated, 39 survive, 17 showed up."
Me: "We only had 5."
Him: "Yeah, it goes in cycles, once you get old enough they start coming back. It's nice: 45 years and 0 personal growth. They're all still bitching about the same things."
Me: "Well, you've given me something to shoot for, even the littlest bit of personal growth in 25 years."
It's one of the few times in life I wished I had a business card, so I could hand it over and ask, "Can we be besties?"←