“The others….all have something they love more than eating or sleeping or wine or friendly company. That is why they were always so busy.”
~Carson McCullers, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter
Well, I think that about sums up why I am such a lazy SOB. There is only one thing I possibly love more than eating or sleeping or wine or friendly company, and that is Geoffrey, who could definitely qualify as friendly company. Well, at least a good half of the time, sometimes he more like certifiably-insane company or clawing-the-couch-and-needs-a-good-beating company, but overall friendly.
Last night I met the Copasetic Fish and it was lovely and she did not kill me. There was eating and friendly company and wine. Instead of meeting later in the evening for drinks, CF invited me along to dinner with the work group she was in town with. When I told the Boy I was doing this, he was gravely concerned. “Won’t that be awkward?” He clearly did not realize I had just spent the last 15 minutes chatting with a homeless man (see below). I like strangers.
And these were lovely strangers. They were all very welcoming and friendly and did not make a big deal of the fact that CF and I blatantly refused to admit how we knew one another (rather than admitting to her boss she has a blog, we just looked evasive… hopefully her boss won’t now assume she is scouting out woman on Match.com!) They were even not offended when someone’s lobster arrived at the table and I exclaimed, “Oh my god! Your food has a FACE!” I’m classy like that. And I like a group who can take that class and roll with it. By which I mean wave the lobster’s claws around and take pictures.
It was a great night, and I’m very glad I got to meet CF. If anyone else wants to come to DC and visit, I promise to drink wine and act classy with you as well.
Tangentially Related
Some of you may have seen Amalah’s post at the end of last week about the “homeless” man she encountered in DC. That post was distressing to me, even though of course I know that happens. I’ve read “The Man with the Twisted Lip.” One of the main points Doyle makes there is that our society is such that begging is a valid way to make a living. What bothers me most is not the idea of people capitalizing off others’ pity and guilt (although that is I pretty reprehensible). What bothers me is that a lot of people—for reasons of bad luck, mental illness, what have you—don’t have other options, but our society can’t work that out either.
So that had been weighing on my mind. Last night when CF called me to suggest moving our meeting up to dinner, I had just ordered a small meal at Teaism in Penn Quarter. Because I a) love strangers and b) am not actually that into my current book, despite the awesome quote above, I just got my food packaged to go and hustled off to meet her. I was pretty sure I’d meet someone along the way who would take my food.
Sure enough, before long I passed a man who called out, “Miss, any spare change?” I approached him and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money I can give you, but I can give you this..” and extended the carry-out bag to him.
His eyes lit up. “Is this food?! Thank you! I am so hungry!”
It was so worthwhile, I might start carrying broccoli with me everywhere.
Sounds like a wonderful moment for both parties
(Here via Amalah)
Dude, we’re totally getting together next time I’m in DC (which will probably be in the fall). (Also, I keep using “dude” a lot. Has Keanu Reeves taken over my brain? I feel like he might say “dude” a lot too.)
I’ve had homeless people reject my leftovers before. Maybe the homeless in Chicago are pickier than those in DC, but I don’t think I could give broccoli away.
I’m glad you’re not dead.
I haven’t been to DC in years, but next time I go, I’ll make sure to drink wine with you.
The Heart is A Lonely Hunter arrived at my door yesterday (via BooksFree) - I’ve yet to start it. I just started One Hundred Years of Solitude, but I keep forgetting to grab it, and when I’m at home, I do no packing.
I’m with Clair - I would never give away broccoli. And once, a homeless man rejected my leftover pizza because he was lactose intolerant. Although the last man to whom I offered food was so appreciative it made me feel all warm & fuzzy.
Ummm….and no worries about your comment on my site - I didn’t feel that you were too self-centered, but I do need to find a pic of your shoes so I can feature them.
This is a very long comment. I think I might be avoiding work a little. If you’re ever in Portland, I will take you out as long as you promise not to kill me