Jacket? Check. Wallet? Check. Keys? Well, obviously, you’re driving, you big gavone. Okay, Danny, this is gonna be your night. They’re gonna be shocked to see you. The guy every girl wanted and every guy wanted to be. The capital-C Cool Cat who flew into the clouds in a 1948 Ford Convertible and then inexplicably vanished, disappearing for three decades.
Man, heads are gonna snap when you walk in. Can hear those dorks now: “Whoa. Dan Zuko? That’s impossible…”
They’re gonna be shocked to see how cool I still am, like “Holy shit. Nobody’s seen you in thirty years! Are you okay?” Ha. Thirty years. That’s still so weird to say.
I’m getting chills, and they’re multiplying just thinking about those jaws hitting the floor when they see I look exactly the same, going, “Like for real, man, this is freaking me out, what the hell is going on with you?”
I can’t believe Sandy didn’t want to come. “All anybody is gonna want to talk about is that stupid car and how we mysteriously flew away, never to be seen or heard from until tonight.” Ugh, she’s gonna be right, again. Why did I wear my old leather jacket? That’s so desperate. You want everyone to think you peaked in high school?
Maybe introduce yourself to everybody as “Daniel”? No, that would be weird. They’d see right through that. “Dan”? Yeah, Dan could work. You walk up to registration and confidently say, “Checking in for Dan Zuko.” They’ll be so impressed that they’ll probably completely forget that one time at the stupid carnival where we dissipated through the fabric of space and time.
I mean, is it really so weird that a self-driving Greased Lightnin’ showed up in the middle of the Class of 1959 Commencement Carnival? Or that Sandy and I jumped in without a second thought as it levitated into the clouds? And have no memory of anything that happened while we were gone? So what? You’re not that same kid anymore, even though you’re wearing the exact same outfit and your cells haven’t aged. They’re gonna be so jealous I still have all my hair.
And so what if we illogically dematerialized? People do lots of embarrassing stuff in high school. That putz Kenickie had a milkshake spilled on his head, and people forgot about that like a day later. Horrifically watching your classmates get smaller and smaller as you drift closer and closer towards nothingness in a ’40s sports car isn’t even that big a deal when compared to that milkshake thing.
C’mon, Daddy-o, you got nothing to be worried about. Tonight’s gonna be peachy keen, jelly bean. You were the cat’s pajamas back in high school. You ruled that school. You lettered in track. Won the dance contest. This is gonna be great. Good times with old friends. Maybe they’ll do limbo and a photo booth. It’s going to be great to catch up and talk about our current lives. On this specific day. And not anything that happened leading up to it because you were caught in a thirty-year time warp.
What am I talking about? People are gonna freak out when they see you. They’re only gonna want to talk about the flying car. And how you were legally a missing person for two-thirds of your life. Ugh, so embarrassing. And I just know they’re gonna be mean about it too. Frenchy is gonna say, “Oh look, it’s Carboy,” and I can just hear Kenickie now going, “Haha, it’s the fool who disappeared in the clouds.” Well, how about you shut up, baldy? I hope he’s bald.
Wait a minute, it’s not like we went to a normal school. We refurbished a stolen 1948 Thunderbird over the course of seven months, and not a single teacher said a word. And who has a carnival during graduation? Plus, Vince Fontaine brought National Bandstand to our school out of like a million. That’s weirder than two kids magically flying into the sunset in a red convertible, unexplainably disbanding from both the physical and temporal dimensions. Right? I wonder if anybody has a copy of that National Bandstand.
C’mon, Danny boy, you got this. I bet the car thing won’t come up even once. Yeah, MAYBE everyone will show up to this extremely nostalgic event and not want to reminisce about high school. MAYBE they’ll just want to talk about the weather. Or their kids. Yeah, people love to talk about their kids.
Oh, who am I kidding? The first thing they’re gonna do is mention Greased Lightnin’ and wonder what the hell happened to us.
Maybe I shouldn’t have worn the jacket?
