October 23, 2004
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Last night, after spending all day in my house, I made myself go out. I drove to an Italian spot where I’ve seen a lot of cars parked around dinner time. The puppy was winding down so I put both dogs in the back seat and hoped she wouldn’t eat the leather seats while I ate my dinner.
The place was packed though it was almost 8:00. There were families with small kids, there were big groups of friends. It all looked good. I was seated at a nice table and ordered chicken picatta. That’s when I noticed the jerk at the table across from me.
He was there with his son (3), his wife(23), and his father-in-law(55). I’m guessing on everyone but the kid. The asshole husband looks very amiable, like he tells a lot of stories. He’s all puffed up trying to impress his wife’s dad. It’s not working and that’s when I start to pay attention.
Rick is wearing a short-sleeved white T shirt with an insignia, from work. I notice a beer belly beneath the puffed out chest, as he tells his father-in-law about the boss inviting him and a couple other employees to go fishing. “Here I thought I was going to make brownie points for staying home working, and now the boss is mad at me for not going.” I can tell he’s self-righteous, too.
The little-bitty thing of a wife is adding encouragements, as her dad says nothing. Rick is clearly the head of the table. She starts cutting the spaghetti up for her son, who is sitting in a booster chair, with hair that has been gelled and is sticking straight up. It looks very punk and these people are not. The boy begins to eat and I am impressed. When I took three-year-olds to an Italian place all they did was eat the bread and drink the pop. And I was happy, if they were relatively quiet.
The boy interjects –They were talking about him– and, Rick, making his voice sound really mean, tells the boy to “EAT.” The mother reaches over to cut some more and now Rick is demanding , “Look at me when I’m talking to you. You need to eat.”
I can just feel the father-in-law’s hatred. About this time Rick launches into how he took Pamela ice skating. “She did remarkably well,” he admits. Now she pipes up with an air of authority, talking about the rink. Apparently the son is taking lessons and Rick is questioning arrangements she’s made. Pamela holds firm but he’s not having it. He tells the dad, “I’m going to have to take over after seeing what went on last week.” “What”! Pam says. “Well, you didn’t do anything about it.” Pamela is now pissed and puts her head down, mumbling. I can just see this guy attending that poor kid’s games: the father who everyone hates.
Now he is asking the boy, and there is only one possible answer, “Son, do you want to play ice hockey? You gotta eat all your dinner if you’re gonna be a hockey player.” The kid is a shrimp, just like his mother and grandfather. That doesn’t draw much enthusiasm so Rick starts talking about how it’s too bad the boy won’t be getting any dessert. There’s a lot of spaghetti on that plate but somehow the kid does it. The waiter comes out with the dessert tray and there’s not one thing on it any child would want.
Now, as I bolt for my car because I just can’t take any more, I wonder if I’ve been hanging around xanga, too much. When you surround yourself with like-minded people, do jerks like Rick just seem so much worse? The good news is that my car was just the way I left it. The puppy was huddled up against the older one, who looked relieved to see me. I know I was relieved to see her.
Comments (5)
A really well written vignette – this could be part of a story, you know. You read people very well. And, yeah, sometimes it IS painful to witness the feelings, or lack of them, that strangers have or don’t have for each other. Sometimes it’s just too close to home. Puppy sounds too, too adorable though!
Thanks for saying you have been looking me up when I was busy with life. It is nice to know that somebody missed me.
My culture and customs are a part of me. I can not separate from them. We were celebrating the Dasara festival and so I wrote about it. Sorry you did’nt find it interesting.
This post of yours is very good. I felt as if I was also sitting at one of the tables and watching.
Ack what a painful dining experience. Some families are like a car wreck – it’s so hard to stop watching yet so painful. I’m a terrible eavesdropper! Though it sounds in this case like you’d be hard pressed not to hear everything that man said.
Your question about whether xanga and like minded people make the bad people seem worse is a good one – I wonder that too. Maybe in part because real people are inherantly wartier than on line people (we can edit out of warts – or not mention what we don’t see in ourselves) but too we can so easily avoid folks with really different modes of relating, we do get to live in a rosier online universe. Maybe.
I found the recipe – thank you, that looks fabulous and it’s a perfect time to try it. I don’t think you look like a dope but like a very kind person. And it’s so buried now under a blanket of other comments that I doubt anyone will seek you out for public ridicule. I’ve wished there was a way to edit my own comments though! You’d think there would be. Anyway thank you!
Yeah…I’ve become extremely sensitive to other people after being on Xanga. I usually want to hide, when confronted with what is real out there…
Just makes being able to come back all the more better.
I think I need to read your last post, too. I fell behind, again!
Much Peace and Love…GFW
AHhh, that was great. I feel like I have been there, seen it before. Like Pina, I am a terrible evesdropper. And it’s true, the more people I meet (yes, even online), the more I like my dog. I should go slap that bumpersticker on my car right now.