(no subject)
last night i stumbled into my local ihop. it's nothing out of the ordinary. usually, my friends and i do a bi-weekly rotation of the same 4 diners/24-hour restaurants (nautilus, towson, bel loc, ihop). most of the time when we go in, i recognize the same waitresses and bus boys. it's comforting.
so when i recognized anita thomas as my host, i was a little taken aback. in my haze, i noticed the same face, the same glasses. her hair was different- nothing i could put my finger on though. and she had a tattoo on the left inside forearm- something in cursive that i couldn't make out. but otherwise she was the same 5th grade anita thomas that i remembered.
anita was, truth be told, a bully. i remember distinctly one time, after falling and scraping my knee on rough playground asphalt, i started to cry.
"james, you such a crybaby," she said.
the nickname stuck. whenever i did something she disapproved of, she would always drop the c-bomb. and, as a vulnerable, impressionable, little kid, it always hurt a little.
but she wasn't like the other assholes. she had a certain world weariness, a sense of having lived through a lot of shit and therefore able to make these sweeping statements about people. of course she called me a crybaby, but the tone in her voice always suggested something like, "you poor guy. with a weak resolve like yours, you won't make it far in this crazy world." there was a little consolation mixed in with her condemnation.
the other thing that i remember about anita was the fact that, in the 2nd grade, she somehow lit her hair on fire. her head was ok but she always had to wear a hat to disguise the fact that she had no hair. though it was against the rules to wear a hat inside, she got special permission so that all the 5th grade safety guards would let her alone.
after 5th grade, i honestly don't remember seeing her ever again. she drifted away from my memory. she was in the deep recesses of my brain. this little encounter brought a rush of these memories back.
our conversation lasted for about 30 seconds and went like this:
J: Oh!...Hello!...Are you...?
A: Oh hey! Are you...James?
J:Anita?!
A: Yeah. Yeah.
J: Wow, it's been a while.
(A & J start walking towards table with J's friends in tow)
A: Yeah, really.
J: How's life been since our old elementary school days anyway?
A: Well, pretty ok. Just been workin'. And my daddy passed away a couple months ago.
J: Jesus. I'm sorry. Really sorry to hear that. Jesus.
A: Yeah. Well I should probably get to working.
J: Sure. Have a good one.
For some reason, in my mind, the people that I knew in elementary school never grew up. They stayed as they were. Their fathers didn't die. They didn't become jaded. They didn't get jobs at ihop. These people were supposed to remain naive, confused, good-natured kids. To know that some of them grew up was a little shocking.
so when i recognized anita thomas as my host, i was a little taken aback. in my haze, i noticed the same face, the same glasses. her hair was different- nothing i could put my finger on though. and she had a tattoo on the left inside forearm- something in cursive that i couldn't make out. but otherwise she was the same 5th grade anita thomas that i remembered.
anita was, truth be told, a bully. i remember distinctly one time, after falling and scraping my knee on rough playground asphalt, i started to cry.
"james, you such a crybaby," she said.
the nickname stuck. whenever i did something she disapproved of, she would always drop the c-bomb. and, as a vulnerable, impressionable, little kid, it always hurt a little.
but she wasn't like the other assholes. she had a certain world weariness, a sense of having lived through a lot of shit and therefore able to make these sweeping statements about people. of course she called me a crybaby, but the tone in her voice always suggested something like, "you poor guy. with a weak resolve like yours, you won't make it far in this crazy world." there was a little consolation mixed in with her condemnation.
the other thing that i remember about anita was the fact that, in the 2nd grade, she somehow lit her hair on fire. her head was ok but she always had to wear a hat to disguise the fact that she had no hair. though it was against the rules to wear a hat inside, she got special permission so that all the 5th grade safety guards would let her alone.
after 5th grade, i honestly don't remember seeing her ever again. she drifted away from my memory. she was in the deep recesses of my brain. this little encounter brought a rush of these memories back.
our conversation lasted for about 30 seconds and went like this:
J: Oh!...Hello!...Are you...?
A: Oh hey! Are you...James?
J:Anita?!
A: Yeah. Yeah.
J: Wow, it's been a while.
(A & J start walking towards table with J's friends in tow)
A: Yeah, really.
J: How's life been since our old elementary school days anyway?
A: Well, pretty ok. Just been workin'. And my daddy passed away a couple months ago.
J: Jesus. I'm sorry. Really sorry to hear that. Jesus.
A: Yeah. Well I should probably get to working.
J: Sure. Have a good one.
For some reason, in my mind, the people that I knew in elementary school never grew up. They stayed as they were. Their fathers didn't die. They didn't become jaded. They didn't get jobs at ihop. These people were supposed to remain naive, confused, good-natured kids. To know that some of them grew up was a little shocking.