found drama

A dinner party. A function. A banquet. But you arrive early. They shuffle you into a back room, a speakeasy type of lounge to wait. But it is the wrong one, even though you recognize some of your friends and acquaintances. You try to order a drink but there are interruptions. People in front of you; and when the bartender does take your order, he pours for someone else first. And it’s supposed to be open bar but not this party, and you wind up paying because you’re at the wrong party.

And when you finally get to the right party, the buffet table is almost cleared out. And almost all of the tables are full. But this is at least the right room, the correct banquet hall. And you try to get some food at the buffet table. But the plates are all so small. And the tongs don’t seem capable of picking anything up, or else they pick up entirely too much. There are some salad greens left. You pick some up with the tongs but it’s a single leaf, or else far more than the plate can hold. And there are no cucumbers, only pickles. And there are no tomatos, only salsa. And there are no peppers, only hot sauce–which isn’t even made with those kinds of peppers. And so on. You get frustrated, you bang the buffet table with the tongs.

You go to sit with your wife (who doesn’t look like your wife really) and child (who doesn’t look like your child really, and is a little girl, not a boy) and… there is someone else there. A rival. A suitor. Were you feuding? Had you been trying to mend a trouble relationship? You didn’t even know. And you are certain this is what is going on because of how everyone looks at everyone else. And he asks you Why cause such a scene? You try to explain but what makes perfect sense to you is but gibberish to everyone else. Not that the words themselves are gibberish, just that no one else sees the reasoning, no one else can comprehend. So you throw the plates, kick away the chair, and storm off.

About Rob Friesel