The embassy in the land of strange
In DC, when I was staying there earlier this year, I called the 7-11 "the Embassy" because it was like leaving the US and stepping onto the ground of another country. I was the only native English speaker there. Don't get me wrong, this was not meant derogatorily. It was just funny to me.
Here in Utah, my universe is somewhat flipped. I feel like I am the stranger in the strange land. The blank looks on the faces of the brainwashed sometimes still surprise me. Were they born without individuality or was it sucked from them, slowly and methodically until they were common, standard, same.
We, the damned, walk around this city. You can almost see us searching each other out. Looking for life in other people's eyes. When found, such a welcome sight. We do, however, have an embassy. Actually, there are a couple scattered here and there. The newcomers sometimes take a few moments to relax when they enter. Almost as though the tension from the city is still pressurizing their bodies and minds. Those of us veterens know we had better relax immediately, because our time there cannot last. I just returnedfrom the embassy closest to my work..... Starbucks.
Now and then, an out of towner shows up. They stay at the adjoining Marriott. You can tell immediately they aren't from around here. They are a little confused, bewildered by their surroundings. A gentleman this morning commented on how difficult it was today to find a cup of coffee.. (I've got news, friend.. Try to find a hamburger today. It's Sunday, you are out of luck, Crown burger.. closed)They take things like coffee for granted. I admit, I rather do too, since I know where the embassy is. Once I drove through 3 towns in Utah county before finding an open bagel shop that served coffee on a Sunday morning. Not kidding.
Feels a little like home in the coffee shops. Not home where I live, home where I am from.
"Venti latte for Jenny" is called out and I walk to the counter and take my morning rations from the ambassador. I smile at her and she smiles back. The ambassador knows me now. She no longer asks to see my passport. Doesn't ask my preference, but confirms. She knows on Sunday, she WILL see me twice. I walk back out into the cold, into the strange land. It is nice to know that the embassy is there. Comforting until I can return to my home.
Here in Utah, my universe is somewhat flipped. I feel like I am the stranger in the strange land. The blank looks on the faces of the brainwashed sometimes still surprise me. Were they born without individuality or was it sucked from them, slowly and methodically until they were common, standard, same.
We, the damned, walk around this city. You can almost see us searching each other out. Looking for life in other people's eyes. When found, such a welcome sight. We do, however, have an embassy. Actually, there are a couple scattered here and there. The newcomers sometimes take a few moments to relax when they enter. Almost as though the tension from the city is still pressurizing their bodies and minds. Those of us veterens know we had better relax immediately, because our time there cannot last. I just returnedfrom the embassy closest to my work..... Starbucks.
Now and then, an out of towner shows up. They stay at the adjoining Marriott. You can tell immediately they aren't from around here. They are a little confused, bewildered by their surroundings. A gentleman this morning commented on how difficult it was today to find a cup of coffee.. (I've got news, friend.. Try to find a hamburger today. It's Sunday, you are out of luck, Crown burger.. closed)They take things like coffee for granted. I admit, I rather do too, since I know where the embassy is. Once I drove through 3 towns in Utah county before finding an open bagel shop that served coffee on a Sunday morning. Not kidding.
Feels a little like home in the coffee shops. Not home where I live, home where I am from.
"Venti latte for Jenny" is called out and I walk to the counter and take my morning rations from the ambassador. I smile at her and she smiles back. The ambassador knows me now. She no longer asks to see my passport. Doesn't ask my preference, but confirms. She knows on Sunday, she WILL see me twice. I walk back out into the cold, into the strange land. It is nice to know that the embassy is there. Comforting until I can return to my home.