THE SEASONED OBSERVER
A journey to the other side
By J. G. Fabiano
Jim Fabiano
As the group discussed the possibilities, I decided to wander around the place where my friends did not want to stay. I have to admit it was my kind of place. You had to pre-order your food and take a number. You then waited in a dark, wooden-paneled and poorly lit restaurant for your number to be called. There was a small bar inside one of the walls where a young man took your orders and delivered your drinks in plastic cups.
The people who filled the room were having a good time. It was loud, and if there was any background music playing, it was overwhelmed by the sound of people having a good time. They grouped around old tables that had obviously taken a bit of abuse over the past few decades. I can't say they were all young, even though many were, but I can say they were all enjoying the food and the company they found themselves in. The place even had a scent that reminded me of friendship and the journey we all take attempting to become.
Walking back toward my party I was all set to try to convince them this was the place we belonged. Needless to say, I failed. The people I was with decided to go to the other side, where the food was said to me more diverse and where people like us should be. Walking down the road, I could almost feel the change in atmosphere. The little warmth I felt in the other place was replaced by a kind of clean sterile chill. Walking into the restaurant, a kind of culture-shock set in. Instead of the steam-filled kitchen that greeted us at the other restaurant, there was a shiny lectern armed by a sophisticated, finely-clad woman who led us to our table.
After I sat down I observed there were few young people hanging around the room. Instead, there were sophisticated groups of individuals quietly talking about what they considered important. These people talked quietly because they did not want to disturb other people sitting around them. There was music playing in the background I desperately attempted to ignore. The room was better lit and had the smell of nothing. A waiter then appeared to take our orders for drinks that were delivered in fancy glasses and frozen pilsner goblets. Sipping my beer, I missed the smell of plastic that preambles the taste of my beverage reminding me of summer days and football games.
I guess you could call me a reverse snob. Sitting straight back in a new wooden chair that had engravings that probably meant nothing, I yearned for my earlier days when I would reject this atmosphere for the comfort and warmth of the place I was told I couldn't stay.
For the past few years this demarcation between this side and the other side has become very clear. My experience reminded me of what is happening economically and politically to my world. In my younger days, the people who were more secure mixed easily with the people who were trying to meet their dreams. Today, this mixture has evaporated with the "haves" trying to get as far away from the "have-nots" as possible. The waiter then reappeared to take our order. At the other side, a person at the table would have probably gone up to the wall where the bartender lived in order to buy another round for the table. Where I have evolved to, no one considered another drink before we ordered our food.
At the other side, I could smell the acrid smell of lobster and the soothing scent of chowder. Where I sat I literally smelled nothing. Looking down at the menu I read about scallop dinners and stuffed haddock meals. But, I still smelled nothing. I also noticed the prices went from under $10 on the other side to over $25 here. I smiled to myself, wondering if the food came from the same kitchen. I wondered if the higher price was the cost of showing everyone in the restaurant that you belonged on this side of the world.
The meal was delivered with few at the table ordering another drink. I did, and my future son-in-law and my daughter did the same. Looking at them trying to enjoy the crusted fish they had just ordered I could see in their eyes they would rather be on the other side. Too bad our world has evolved this way. I remember a time when there was only one side. But, maybe those were they days when I wasn't invited into the place where I now sit.
