what defines a scentic highway-- part 4

so, anyway, the next morning i woke up sick.  i kinda skipped the music festival and explored a little.

but then suday night was dinner.  i checked the website.  i asked around.  it was at the country club.  i got lost.  i wasted a bunch of time.  i got there early.

i waited.   i waited.   i waited.  it seemed like i was waiting a long long time.  i was getting a little worried because i had one show i wanted to see that was after.

the woman who had been so friendly when i came in walked by.

excuse me, how much longer do you think it's going to be?, i asked

she didn't answer and walked away.  could she really not have heard me?

finally we did go in, though.  there were several, like maybe four long tables.  i tried to find somewhere that felt right, but everyone looked like someone i didn't want to sit by, so, in the end, i just sat down.  then a big group rushed in, setting everything in a kind of tizzy.  some of these people sat down right next to me.

if i could remember all the conversation, maybe it would make a better story to slowly pull out this fact, but these were the people who had held us up.  now, i'm sure if i had called to say i was running late they would have said

oh, sorry, we have a schedule and other people have scheduled performers to hear.

or, possibly

well,that's awful.  we will try our very best to save you a portion of the meal you have already paid for.  get here fast.

but these people were members of the club.  and here's this guy all like,

so sorry  we just couldn't seem to get everybody together.  the women took forever to get dressed and the teenagers had to be rounded up.  haha


i think, but do not say aloud:
whatever dude.  clearly the world does revolve around you.  please don't disrespect me by pretending you're sorry about that.  you're the one who fucking called them and told them to wait.

apparently we are all supposed to chat.  and not about the food.  the people on my left are maybe a little older than me, but not much.  he is a physician on staff at a large hospital in some state i just drove through to get here.  they have a place in watercolor.  she is an administrator at the same hospital, i think.  and she is trying really hard to talk to me.  i really don't want to talk, but there seems to be a bunch of time built into this for just this sort of talking--  like it was fun, or something.

so, she asks me, what do you think of our beautiful highway

i'm slightly shocked.  i am uncertain what to say.  i recover reasonably quickly,

well, i was taken by surprise--  when i heard scenic highway i was expecting to see beautiful ocean views but you can't see the ocean at all.

well, yes, there are other ways to be scenic.  we love it here.  we had been looking for a place for a while, and when we came down here we just knew this was the place.

 i think, but do not say aloud:
wow.  i didn't even want to sleep here for four nights.  i was afraid it would suck my soul away in that time it seemed so plastic and fake.  i cannot imagine wanting to "have a place" here.

she starts networking with the center of the universe guy about the club membership.

then he--  and don't get me wrong he seems like a nice enough guy and all--  starts talking politics.  who do we want for president.  now, if i didn't want to talk about hideous development or club membership, i certainly didn't want to talk about that.  i try to avoid politics in groups.  especially groups of unknowns.

this guy is for bernie.  he says it like he wants to be challenged.  or perhaps like he thinks he is a dangerous rebel.  i don't think anyone was for trump, but i can't imagine they were all democrats.  i wish i could remember who everyone was for.  for purely scientific reasons.

the wine is very good.
the servers keep tipping up center of the universe's glass.
i am offered no more.  and he doesn't use any of his privilege to offer me any.  even though he made me tell him where i work.  and i'm kind of ashamed of where i work, so i would have rather not.  but, clearly, i have a professional interest.

oh, you really like this wine?  i don't care for it. yes, thank you jeeves, i'll have a little more.

so, i'm really out of touch with these people.  but that makes sense.  i really dislike most people my age, or at least can't relate to them.  but then, there is just a gratuitous thing that happens.  there's a musical guest.  apparently they all love her.  now i'm sure she's great, but she get's up and starts talking about being basically the age i am, like i'm supposed to relate to it, and yet again--  no.

she sings this song that they all already love.  and it reminds me of   july, july  somehow.  i don't relate to it either.  i don't look back on my first sexual experiences with a sense of innocence and fondness.  i never drank their strawberry wine.


i start looking at my watch.  i am trying to decide at what point i am going to have to be "rude" by getting up and walking out.  i have a show i cannot miss whatever the consequences.

the song finishes.  desert is served.  i take a tiny bite of each.  it's not even tempting to eat more.  i get up.

well goodnight, i say, it was nice meeting you

maybe we'll see you next year, the nice administrator says

maybe, i say
but not if i see you first, i do not say aloud