An odd assortment

Yesterday was a collection of experiences that, singularly, don't make for much, but put together, help you to realize that my life is something of an amusement park ride.

Woke up hungover and read my drunken post. Didn't regret it, but also realized that even if I had, I had made a vow never to delete a post. They are your thoughts and your life, and just like the real thing, there are moments we don't want to have, but they took place and that is that.

Like the time in junior high, when I thought spitting was cool, and it would make girls like me. (As you can tell, I was as ill equipped for seduction even then as I am now) So, I started to spit all the time, even once indoors on my family's living room rug while we were all watching TV. It had become habit. I wasn't very good at it and all day long I would walk around in T-shirts that had long dribble stains down the front, but I had seen other guys do it, and they seemed cool and rebellious, and girls liked them, so, I spit. Then one day I was hanging out with a cool guy (proof to me that my spitting was working, even if on the wrong gender), when the COOLEST girl in class came over. She commanded the pack of girls who had developed breasts early, and therefore my future as cool relied on me showing her that I was now a spitter and that it was okay for her followers to acknowledge me and ravage my body. I didn't want to do one of my usual dribblers, so I really stocked up on the saliva while she was talking to the other guy, and then, nonchalantly, with a toss of my head back, then forward, I heaved. Well, I must have altered my normal trajectory with all that superfluous head movement, because the spit, a large quantity, went right into her face. She screamed and left, and I was sent away from the cool guy's house. Then my life as we currently know it was born.

Later in the day, yesterday, my mother-in-law called.

She has only called for me, in the decade I have known her, maybe twice. Mostly we would talk when she called for my wife, but got me.

Yesterday, she called for me. I had just reheated some stir fry and had just put the proper amount of soy on the rice, so it wouldn't be too salty, when the phone rang. Turns out, she wanted some advice about a neighborhood in South Chicago. I am from Chicago, but it is a bit of a large burg, so I was unfamiliar with said locale. She had to pick up her daughter's stolen car at some repair shop there, and was concerned it might be "bad". I told her just because it might be predominantly black, wouldn't mean it would be "bad". She understood that point. She is a throwback hippie. She was just concerned because a number of insurance agents in Chicago were refusing to go there. I said that you could usually tell when you were in a bad neighborhood, because it usually looks bad, you know, gutted buildings and not too much traffic. She said that the neighborhood had looked fine. HAD looked fine. I asked her then if she had already gone and gotten the car. She had. I thought she was calling me for advice before going to the neighborhood, but she was calling AFTER the fact. So, I asked her if anything "bad" had happened to her and she said no. So, I told her it wasn't a bad neighborhood. She thanked me.

When she hung up, I burst into tears.

I don't know why. Well, I guess I do know why, but it seemed so random after the conversation we had. Still, I sat for a good five minutes weeping more than I have in several weeks. The downside was, all my tears were flowing into my balanced stir fry, and the salt factor got raised considerably. Nuts!

Then, at work, I was waiting on a large party. They, about 16 people, were all arriving at once and everyone wanted something. All would talk to me at the same time, even overlapping others who were still talking. I can usually remain calm in these situations, and I believe I was doing just that. One woman was asking for water, which I was pouring, by leaning over in her chair. She was, to put it mildly, gigantic. Fearing that her balance, or the chair, would give, I told her, calmly, that I saw her and would come to her. She stopped leaning, and after pouring the water I had begun, I went straight to her and poured her water. Good, right? Then a guy came to me and said we needed to add another table because two more people had showed up. I started to say let me get the busboy to do that, when I was tapped on the shoulder from behind in mid sentence. I turned to see a second gentleman, and he told me we needed to add another table because two more people had showed up. I said that we were in fact, just then, negotiating that very point. That is exactly what I said. Not snide. Clever maybe, but forthright. He looked at me and said, "Oh, you're going to give us some attitude, huh." I was actually shocked. I told him that I wasn't giving attitude, that in fact I was getting a second table and that the man behind me and I were indeed talking about that. He then said he meant when I told the fat lady that I saw her need for water, and that I would be right there. I think I actually blinked a few times before I could answer. I said I didn't see how that was attitude. He thought about it, but didn't say anything, so I think he gave up on the point.

Later when I was telling that story to a fellow waiter, he said that I usually get away with so much sarcasm, that it was fitting that I finally get blamed for something I didn't do.

No wonder I drink.