The American Legion is an almost hundred-year old veterans organization, something like an Elks Lodge. But on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving in Freehold, New Jersey, it is the hottest bar in town. Everyone who went to the Boro and is over 21 goes there to cavort with old classmates (and the odd teacher, ew) and buy bottled beer from a veteran in a coatroom. It is bliss.
Some blind items about the Legion ’11:
Which bottle-blonde somehow had the inside scoop on a secret bathroom upstairs beyond the coatroom/bar with no line? (Thisguy.)
Which class of 2000 grads decided they had lived out their Legion days and moved on to Happy Hour (9 to close) at Esco’s?
Which blogger chatted up her first-grade crush?
Which class of ’06er triumphed over her high school heartthrob by living to see the day he got fat?
Which classmate this blogger never spoke one word to gave a head-nod of recognition while passing by each other?
Which consummate oddball accused yours truly of living in the Village, and asserted he’d seen me on 7th Ave?
Which Boston college (small-c) vets discovered the Legion’s patio, which looked like a portal into an Allston backyard?
Which person told me with my blonde hair I looked like Nicki Minaj, and all I’d need was some self-tanner to look just like her? (That’d be an awful lotta tanner.)
I wonder if this shit goes on in every town, or if we’re the only high school that has yearly reunions at an American Legion-cum-bar.