School Reunion 2010 Essay Example

from our Concorde an hour following. Stationed at the specified terminal was an elderly, long-haired individual asserting to be my driver. As I observed him closely, a feeling of recognition swept over me.

"Mr. Alsop?" I mistook him for my former English teacher.

The chauffeur responded, saying "Yes Mr. Chandi," as he opened the black rigid door located at the rear of the 17-seating limousine.

"I saw you on TV the other day and I must say, you played really nicely."

"Thank you, sir."

"Deepak, please call me Alsoppy."

We then went to the renowned Grosvenor Centre, famous for its exclusive designer wear shops. Upon entering, I was immediately surrounded by cricket fans seeking my original autograph. I had to navigate through the crowd quickly and made my way into Harrods stores where I purchased a black suit by the renowned designer, Benny Frostino.

We quickly drove away from the complex in my recently acquired high-end Ferrari 360 Modena, which was registered as DEEP4K. On my way to the school location, I encountered some signs indicating 'NSB'. In the distance, a small yet brilliantly illuminated building came into view. However, with each passing moment, the building seemed to expand in size. Eventually, we reached the five-story car park, where security guards wearing noticeable bright yellow jackets, sponsored by Alex Cochran, were present throughout.

There was a big picture of my school friend Alex pasted allover these jackets. Beside my beasty car parked on the 5th floor was a green battered Ford Escort. Stepping out of the Ford was my good friend and current Wimbledon champion, who had defeated Lleyton Hewitt just 24 hours earlier. Christopher Ingram, as he was known, was sporting

seventy-two earrings in his nose, bright orange trousers, a skimpy little t-shirt declaring 'I am tennis', and a purple glove on his left hand.

"Hello Chris, what's the update on your tennis journey?"
"Not much different. Managed to clinch victory at Wimbledon without conceding a point. What about you?"
"Just standard stuff. Recently achieved an impressive 376 not out."
"That's amazing! Congrats. I caught it on Alex Sports 1. You were spectacular indeed. Do you recall our days of playing together?"
"Yes, those were some great times."
"I think we should get going now. The others are likely already there."
"That sounds right."
We exited the car park and directed ourselves towards the main event site. Despite his pelvic injury causing him to limp, Chris didn't let it hinder his performance at Wimbledon at all. We traced the indications leading us to NSB casino premises whereupon reaching its entrance, an imposing 8ft creature, dressed in attire reminiscent of my school day's grunge style checked our credentials off their list and then queried "Deepak do you recognise me?"

"Sorry but no," was my response.

"It's me Paddy."

"Oh! Hi. You've grown. A lot!"

We then passed a drunken beggar. I don't know how he got in. I then examined his red spiky beard full of bread loaf to discover the identity of this inhumane monster. I never thought Nick Chapman's music career would go that badly. He was fairly good at playing the horn. Or was it a...I'm not sure what it was actually.

As we stepped into the elevator, the lone figure, who preferred to be called the 'elevator engineer', greeted Deepak and asked about his children. The engineer was dressed in our time's school

uniform and had a yellow colored year strip.

"I don't have any Omar".

"Oh Yeah!" exclaimed the former president of Jordan. Despite his attempt to conquer the world, his malevolent pursuit was unsuccessful. Eventually, his children assaulted him using lengthy pipe cleaners and dethroned him from his position.

Next, we made our way into the grand auditorium where a petite man donning very strong glasses was present. In an over-dramatic manner, he flung his cape that had the American emblem stitched onto it and started uttering audacious claims. "I am the U.S.A's commander-in-chief." He sported shorts on his lower body. As he initiated a spree of kicking juveniles with his hairless, slender legs, I immediately identified him. It had always been apparent to me that George would ultimately get to this stage.

Shortly after, I received a call from Roger Davies, the coach of the Indian cricket team, instructing me to immediately return to the team camp. My reunion came to an end as I swiftly departed in my Concorde.