One Is Particularly Interested

Back in Poughkeepsie.  I can drive around now.  And driving in the U.S. is very different.  Driving around the block to a Starbucks is no difference at all.  But driving up to fifty miles per hour on a crowded road, with dozens of exits and entrances with cars waiting to enter the flow of traffic, that is different.  You wouldn’t go this fast in China.  You couldn’t go this fast with traffic this dense.  The chance that someone would cut out and accelerate in front of you is always too great. You need to second guess everyone, all the time.  Even though they shouldn’t, they might.  And so you naturally go slower.  If you drove with that much trepidation here, people would beep at you. 

We head out to a restaurant by the college.  The waitress seems harried.  She seats us in the back on some high chairs and promises to move us once the floor clears up.  It is crowded.  On the wall is a picture of Eric Clapton, Pete Townshend and Elton John all sitting together, from some shot, back in the day.  He has the classic old “Eric Clapton with John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers” on the airwaves.  I try to mention it to my kids but no one is particularly interested.

The older one is feeling pressured.  I’ve been plastering on the pressure, it seems.  That was hours ago.  Doesn’t matter.  The lava has found a way to the surface now.  Here. The younger one knows it isn’t fair that all the attention is focused around her big sister.   "You'd rather go home?"  “Hey, can I have this order to-go?”

I notice more rock memorabilia on the walls.  There are posters about Ireland as well.  I consider the large, mustachioed guy back behind the wall at the end of the bar.  Is this his place?  Are these his tastes?  We’re over at the table now and three of us eat in silence. 

Wednesday, 07/12/17