Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details.A Journey to the other side By J. G. Fabiano After looking at the menu and the ambiance of the lobster pound where they only served lobster, chowder, and some hamburgers and hot dogs that people would order because they clearly understand they don't belong on the New England coast, my friends advised we should go to the other side. Asking what they meant, I was told there was a better restaurant owned by the same people down the road. There we could get what we wanted and could be served in a more prestigious area. 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 where you waited 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 had been any background music playing it was overwhelmed by the sound of people having a good time. They grouped around old round 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 belong in. 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 a 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 drink orders 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 new wooden chair that had engravings that probably meant nothing I yearned for my earlier days when I would reject this atmosphere for 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 in having to decide which other side to go 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 in order 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 $10.00 on the other side to over $25.00 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. The End.
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