I’m still processing some feelings about my 25th college reunion this past weekend, and how it relates to moving forward into graduate school this fall. I want to write more about that later as I figure it out, but today I want to unpack the most stressful aspect of the reunion, which was the class dinner on Saturday night.
I met up with a friend for the reunion, and this was the only scheduled event we had registered for, and it kind of dominated the whole day. We drove in early to attend an alumni memorial service (and to beat the traffic), so the day stretched very, very long before dinnertime came around. (It would have been harder to take a break and go back to the hotel than to stay on campus, due to the traffic and numerous other events going on in the area.) It didn’t help that I had slept very poorly the night before, due to the unfamiliar hotel bed.
We did have lots of time to walk around, take pictures, do some shopping, and have lunch, but all of this meant that I was pretty worn out by the time dinner rolled around. Then it started with a cocktail hour, with very few places to sit. The venue was pretty, with a nice view of the city, but standing for an hour after walking so much was very tiring. And while most of my day had been filled with one-on-one conversation with just my friend, now it was expanded to small groups. At first this was ok, because while it was more to keep track of, it also meant that I could just listen to some parts of it, without feeling the need to reply to everything.
I was happy to hear when dinner was ready, both because I could finally sit down and because I was getting pretty hungry at that point. Walking into the dining room, though, I found it disappointing that a) there wasn’t much of a view from that room, b) the tables were packed in pretty close, and c) dinner was a rather underwhelming buffet. I was expecting better food for the price of registration and the (admittedly vague) description of the dinner as “upscale.” Once things got going, however, these were very minor issues compared with the overwhelming nature of the social and sensory environment.
Reflecting back on it after the fact, it’s interesting to note that I didn’t have any issues with social anxiety that whole day. Instead, what came to a head during dinner was a combination of two separate, but related, issues: sensory overload and social overload. In terms of sensory overload, there were a few hundred talkative people all seated in the same room, plus a string quartet or something (I didn’t get a good look) playing in the corner. The noise level was overwhelming, especially all of the voices coming at me from all sides. People sometimes describe noise like that as a roar, or a wave of sound, but for me it doesn’t blend together. It was all separate, and never stopped. Eventually my head felt fuzzy, like my brain had been shredded into fluff by all of those individual needles of sound.
This was bad enough, but it really exacerbated the social overload that was also going on. This had already started, of course, given that I had spent the past twelve hours in near-constant conversation and interaction. So by the end of the day, the addition of more people to all of that interaction really started to take a toll. And with all of the noise, it was extremely difficult to understand what people were saying to me if they were more than about a foot away, and of course people were trying to talk across the table. So it required more and more focus just to follow what people were saying, and often I had to ask people to repeat themselves. And asking just increased the amount of interaction required, so it didn’t take long before I was starting to shut down.
I was able to get up and leave the room once I had finished my dinner, and there was a nice balcony with a view of the Boston skyline. It was quiet out there, and cool, so I was able to recover a little bit. I headed back in when I felt better, but if anything the room seemed even louder after taking a break from it. I didn’t last very long this time, and let my friend know I couldn’t take any more. To be honest, all I could really manage was something like, “I can’t do this,” while shaking my head and getting out of my chair. I fled back into the next room, where I found a table and sat down.
My friend followed me a few seconds later, along with another friend of hers we had been sitting with. They asked if I was ok, and at first all I could say was, “No,” but then I explained that I was overloaded and done being in the dining room. My friend was ready to leave, too, so we said goodbye to her other friend and headed out. I was extremely tired, but I think I was still really wound up from all of it, because even after we got back to the hotel I couldn’t relax enough to get to sleep. (I also needed to stay up a bit to eat some of the snacks I had brought, because I hadn’t really eaten enough dinner.)
The whole experience was both overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time, and the underwhelming nature of the dinner itself made it really not worth dealing with the overwhelming social/sensory aspects. Other than wearing noise-canceling headphones (which were all the way back in my car and would have made me extremely self-conscious), I can’t really think of anything I might have done to improve the situation. Sitting in a different location in the dining room might have helped, but it was very unclear where the best place would have been. Even around the edges of the room, it was hard to find a spot that wasn’t close to one of the buffets, or a busy doorway, or the musicians. Short of filling my plate and taking it outside to eat, I couldn’t really have taken more of a break from it—and at first I was really enjoying the conversation, so I didn’t want to just bail on my whole table right off the bat. Mostly I was disappointed by the whole situation.
It has taken me a day or so to recover; I didn’t sleep well again that night, and then I had to drive home in the morning. My body bounced back from the hours of walking, but my brain was still fried. Ultimately, I think having a larger venue so the tables could be spread out more, perhaps with smaller groups of people clustered in different areas, would have helped immensely.
And, of course, better food.