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There’s nothing like a trip back home over the holidays to help you gain a new appreciation for the Westwood bar scene.

As a senior, this past Thanksgiving break was the first time that virtually everyone from my high school graduating class was over 21 and eager to drink their way out of boredom in the suburbs.

And while I was initially excited by the idea of running into a bunch of former classmates I hadn’t seen in four years, it did not take long to realize the whole experience felt like an impromptu high school reunion, and I became conscious of the fact that I did not exactly fit in with everyone in my East Coast hometown after spending the past few years in Los Angeles.

Eager to try out one of the four bars near my house – pretty much the only places open later than 9:30 during the week – I made plans to go out with a group of high school classmates.

But it did not take us long to learn that we had definitely picked the wrong place to meet. We sat at a table in the desolate bar populated by handful of 40-year-old divorcees and 50-plus men while the entire Cat Stevens collection played out of the speakers. On top of this tragic ambiance, I realized that getting together with high school friends meant being reminded of embarrassing moments in high school – things I had probably intentionally blocked out of my memory.

I could only cringe through so many people saying “do you remember when you” before I began to regret my decision to get together with high school friends.

But, not one to be easily defeated, I decided to make yet another appearance at the hometown bars the following night. This time I headed out with a good friend who goes to college in Chicago to a bar that was actually packed with people our age and played upbeat music.

But we did not even have to go inside to realize how out-of-place we looked. Apparently the dress code for bars in Westwood and other urban areas is more than a bit different from that of an East Coast suburban bar.

Everyone was dressed in head-to-toe J. Crew, complete with pearls. I can only be thankful neither of us was wearing black.

Once we were inside and safe from the snow and 30-degree temperatures, the parade of classmates I had not seen in four years began. We’re talking people I don’t even keep in touch with enough to add as a Facebook friend.

At first I was excited to see how everyone looked after so long (pretty much the same), but my enthusiasm soon wore down after a lot of awkward conversations that not even beer could help, involving majors, post-graduation plans and vague high school memories.

On top of that, many East Coasters are convinced that everyone in California is “out to lunch,” as they say, and my high school classmates would look at me with grave faces to ask, “You’re not actually going to stay out there, are you?”

So I felt forced to try to defend all of California to a drunk audience.

Let’s just say we did not need to stay until last call to come to terms with the reality that we definitely did not fit in with the suburban Maryland bar scene – which is not necessarily a bad thing.

And while the idea of seeing high school friends sounds fun, there’s probably a reason why you do not keep in touch with certain people.

As much as I complain about the (lack of a) Westwood bar scene, I would much rather be at Maloney’s or BrewCo, where I actually have something in common with the people other than memories from four years ago, and where the temperature never falls below 60 degrees.

Plus, who really wants to wait in line for a bar in the snow while wearing pearls and a winter coat?

Not easily discouraged, Rodgers is actually planning to throw a New Year’s Eve party for her high school classmates. E-mail her your advice on how to avoid reminders of embarrassing high school memories at jrodgers@media.ucla.edu.