Feeling Welcome

Articles

Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

Feeling Welcome
Apr. 13, 2003

I was looking forward to lunching with Rich at P&G’s, in New Paltz, NY, because maybe I would run into a few familiar faces. Hey. There was a time fifteen years ago when that place was my home away from home. I would rush in after long hours of studying, throw my text books under the bar, put two dollars on the bar and get my usual.

“You must love tomatoes.” The bartender would say, frowning at my sandwich.

“Poverty .” I would say, appreciating the slice of turkey the cook had started adding so that I could get some protein.

I was excited to be back. I pushed open the heavy door and the balding, pot bellied men at the bar let up a cheer of recognition. I smiled and approached them, glancing from face to face. Nope. Good try. I didn’t know any of them. Hey. It almost worked.

I found a table near the window and the waitress ran over.

“Oh. Good. You are finally here.” She happily said, in mid hug.

“Do I know you?” I asked feeling more welcome today than I ever did back in my college days.

“Wow.” She said, stumbling backwards. “You look exactly like my sister.”

“Oh.” I said, nodding jokingly. “She must be very attractive.”

“I was wondering why you weren’t smiling. You look just like her. Sorry.” She stared.

“No problem.” I said. “Sometimes we sisters all look alike.”

The person I truly did know finally came in. We remembered how awesome it was to have shared a rented house that was right in town all those years ago.

“Yeah.” Rich reminisced. “We could walk to P&Gs. We could walk home. That was the best house.”

“I know. We had the best parties there.” I said.

“Remember that big party?” He asked.

“Yes, I do. The Stranger Party.” I said.

Friends had closed their restaurant. They brought all of their left over liquor and we invited everyone we knew. They invited their friends too. It was the best party we had ever been invited to. We were sort of lucky that people remembered our names whenever they remembered that party, because we hardly knew anyone there.

“I remember cleaning up.” I said.

His eyes got overcast. “Remember that Tupperware filled with moths we found months later in a closet? That was the worst food discovery I have ever encountered.” He said, choking on the memory.

“I don’t remember that.” I said, trying to get the image out of my head so that I could continue eating.

The worst part was that when I was cleaning the bathroom after that party, I found a brick of cocaine behind the bathroom medicine cabinet. Now. Rich and I were not at all into drugs.

“I am pretty sure that this isn’t for building houses.” I had said, showing it to him.

We decided to leave it there; hoping that whoever left it would come back and claim it before the police happened by for our annual law enforcement bathroom cleaning party.

I asked one of my chemistry professors from the college to test it. He was shocked to find it very pure. He suggested that we leave it there for a while so that the owner could reclaim it. Because surely somebody was missing that brick. Um. We waited one whole forever long month, and still that lonely brick sat.

No. We weren’t enterprising enough to consider selling it. Man. We wouldn’t even know how. So, at the chemistry professor’s suggestion, Rich and I stood over the toilet and flushed it, a little at a time. It was our small contribution to the war on drugs.

Before we left the restaurant Rich did run into some people he knew. It was an old couple he had rented a room from, many years earlier when he first attended college.

“Yes. We remember you. You were our best tenant. We have a room open right now. Are you looking for a place?” They asked eagerly.

“No, thanks.” Rich said, a bit surprised. “I have owned my own home now for over fifteen years.”

“Pity.” They said, as they waved him away.”

About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

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