Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Then came the night.  Busboy calls in sick.  A fourteen top of book club ladies back in the wine room.  I get them started by pouring a taste of Luberon white wine, and quickly realize the futility.  Can we pull the table away here to make an aisle so we can all talk (not about books.)  Then they, or one of them, comes out and tells us that they would prefer moving out into the main wine bar room, so they can mingle better.  Yeah, try to keep that straight.  But you'd be taking up the whole restaurant then, I say.  She keeps at it.  Fine, take up the whole restaurant.    They decide to stay, as a group, back in the room.  The young guy, a rookie, pours a round of red tastes, as if they were paying any attention.  Some of them order food.  One bottle of Vouvray, a few glasses here and there.  Appetizers.  They all want separate checks.

Somewhere in the night, at home, restless, unable to sleep before 7 AM it occurs to me my mistake was in ever attempting in the beginning a long time ago to be humble, attempted in the way that humble is righteous without being self-righteous, perhaps as a strategy counter to my brother.  But I was also young and stupid/foolish, cut some corners, like using the house telephone, not having my own line one year in college...  Better to be demanding, and deserving of spending money on self....

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