GUESS WHO CAME TO DINNER

I never realized that I personally knew a member of the storied 1% until my recent 50 year high school reunion where we were able to round up about 10 guys from our private school graduating class which consisted of 56 altogether. Taking into consideration the ravages of age and things like illness and death, that really wasn't a half bad turnout. It was wonderful seeing people I haven't even thought about for a half century of life with all of it's tribulations. Some have done better than others but, at the end of the day, these were guys I spent 3 very important years of my life surrounded by in class rooms, dorm rooms, dining rooms and study halls and they really hadn't changed a bit. All except one. He had become a member of the 1% and was careful to make sure everyone knew it. The school, itself, was a haven for the children of the rich and, occasionally, famous. It was a prep school in Connecticut where those who could afford it would send their kids to get discipline, to get an Ivy League equivalent high school education or to get rid of them so they could do whatever it was they did to make more money and travel. These were the sons of privilege and power. The first born of the Chief of Police to the King of Thailand, the nephew of the guy who assassinated President Trujillo of the Dominican Republic, the offspring of the owner of the Biltmore Hotel in NYC (they lived in the penthouse) – I was out of my element and in over my head. We weren't part of this crowd. I grew up in a working class household with parents who toiled and sacrificed for me and my brother. I couldn't relate to the guy who came from one of the most expensive address in Paris or the ship builder's son from Brazil. We struggled for what little we did have and did without many things I saw my friends with. My school friends had lots of “stuff”.......I had a work ethic and a tight budget. I was only in the school by virtue of the fact that my grandmother was a personal friend of the wife of the school's owner and headmaster. They had worked on a number of projects together, not the least of which was finding a way to get me into that school. Most of my friends, however, did not come out of that environment particularly entitled. They all went on to make it - or not - on their own merits. Some did fairly well, some not so much but they did it themselves. With the notable exception of one guy who showed up for the reunion. Now, here it was, 50 years later and 10 of us had arranged a dinner in South Florida. The retired college professor was there as was the filmmaker, a couple of guys who had owned their own businesses and done relatively well while maintaining their “down to earth,” good guy qualities, a guy or two who just,plain worked hard for their families and were hoping to be able to afford to retire and me, a retired scam artist who had managed to fool enough people for enough years to have a career entertaining the masses, to successfully and, eventually, to retire. All pretty normal stuff. We each had our own separate health issues as well but, at our age, that's part of the territory. You get up each day, find the “new normal” and move on. Then there was Artie (his name has been changed to protect me after he informed me how easy it would be to kill me because he had a gun) who let us know, in no uncertain terms, that he was to be called Arthur now. He had taken over a successful business from his dad and kept making lots of money for, as he told us (almost ad nauseum) doing nothing. He was wealthy and powerful and was enjoying every minute he gloated about it. In South Florida, even 5 star restaurants expect customers to wear shorts. They are all very informal, understanding that folks are here escaping the winter doldrums and are spending money. It's a tourist haven and everyone dresses comfortably. Not Artie. He showed up wearing what was, obviously, a very expensive, custom tailored suit, a pricey watch, a spray on tan and dyed hair. He looked rich and wasn't about to let us forget it. He spoke about his 4 houses (2 in New England, one in Florida and one in the islands). He told us that his new wife was flying in and, when asked if he was going to pick her up at the airport, he responded,”Hell no.....I sent my driver.” Artie (I won't call him Arthur) regaled us with stories of his power and kept saying, “I'm the job creator. I'm the guy who signs the FRONT of the check.” When my friend's wife said, “Well what about all of us who sign the BACK of the check and are just trying to make it in the world,” he responded, “I don't care about them. I sign the FRONT of the check.” The conversation then started to “go south.” Artie had had a couple of drinks by this time and began to character assassinate ALL Muslims. He felt that the world would be better off if they were all eliminated. He couldn't accept the idea of a radical faction that has hijacked the faith and was making things look worse than they actually were on a global scale. The camel back breaking straw for me came when he laughed while telling us the story of standing on a street in Boston when a woman in a hijab and two small children walked by and he put his hand in the shape of a gun and pointed at her to simulate shooting her and the kids. He then commenced to tell me how little I knew about anything. He kept drinking. Thank goodness for my wife who, always “having my back,” changed the subject by asking about his kid. All in all, the reunion was a smashing success. We are all in our late 60's and that's what people walking by us saw. A bunch of old guys acting like teenagers which is what we were when we all lived together in the dormitories and shared every aspect of our lives. We felt like we are 16 and 17 again and were acting accordingly. Except Artie who gave off a vibe of self importance and seemed to feel as if he was doing us all a favor by showing up for the dinner. I can't wait for the next time we can all spend some time laughing and reminiscing and celebrating life long friendships. It's safe to say that Artie won't be there. He'll be too busy “hobnobbing” with his 1% colleagues to be bothered by the peons he went to high school with. Besides, he already graced us with his presence once. I'm sure he feels that was more than enough for this lifetime.