Cinco de Mayo
Despite my love (Adoration? Obsession?) with margaritas, I have never truly celebrated Cinco de Mayo properly. I came cleverly close one year when I went to Houston to visit my friend, Suzan. Being in Texas for a Mexican holiday was as close as I was going to get for an “authentic celebration” it would seem.
We went out to dinner that night and had all the necessary Mexican favorites. There were chips, salsa, tequila and a lot of food that took cheese, beans, some sort of sauce and rolled, mixed, fried, or otherwise stuffed them into a tortilla.
The most interesting part of the evening, however was the couple sitting at the next table. Suzan and I were playing that ever-popular game where you try to create the “story” of other people around you. Trouble was, while we were having so much fun inventing reasons for why this particular couple were out together, whether it was a first date or they were steady partners, the girl started to cry. She really tried to hide it and certainly didn’t make any sort of a scene, but we could tell that something had seriously upset her. The man with her tried to reach out and hold her hand, but she pulled away and wanted nothing to do with him. He looked around furtively, trying to see how many eyes were on their table, but no one else took pause enough to noticed. The waiter brought their order to the table and girl wouldn’t even up. The man finally just asked the waiter to box it up to go.
That night I wanted to leave my celebratory mood and hug a stranger. I could feel how hurt she was and how badly she just wanted to escape the moment she was in. I thought for certain this was not a night she would soon forget, either. Whatever had upset her seemed to do so on a level that no simple apology would heal. I truly felt guilty for having so much fun myself. It didn’t seem fair that anyone should be that upset in the midst of a drunken party atmosphere.
Every now and then, when I’m at a restaurant playing that game, I still think about her. I’m sure in the five or more years that have passed, she is long over whatever upset her that night. I hope tonight she is celebrating Cinco de Mayo with laughter instead of tears.
We went out to dinner that night and had all the necessary Mexican favorites. There were chips, salsa, tequila and a lot of food that took cheese, beans, some sort of sauce and rolled, mixed, fried, or otherwise stuffed them into a tortilla.
The most interesting part of the evening, however was the couple sitting at the next table. Suzan and I were playing that ever-popular game where you try to create the “story” of other people around you. Trouble was, while we were having so much fun inventing reasons for why this particular couple were out together, whether it was a first date or they were steady partners, the girl started to cry. She really tried to hide it and certainly didn’t make any sort of a scene, but we could tell that something had seriously upset her. The man with her tried to reach out and hold her hand, but she pulled away and wanted nothing to do with him. He looked around furtively, trying to see how many eyes were on their table, but no one else took pause enough to noticed. The waiter brought their order to the table and girl wouldn’t even up. The man finally just asked the waiter to box it up to go.
That night I wanted to leave my celebratory mood and hug a stranger. I could feel how hurt she was and how badly she just wanted to escape the moment she was in. I thought for certain this was not a night she would soon forget, either. Whatever had upset her seemed to do so on a level that no simple apology would heal. I truly felt guilty for having so much fun myself. It didn’t seem fair that anyone should be that upset in the midst of a drunken party atmosphere.
Every now and then, when I’m at a restaurant playing that game, I still think about her. I’m sure in the five or more years that have passed, she is long over whatever upset her that night. I hope tonight she is celebrating Cinco de Mayo with laughter instead of tears.
Comments
You have such a compassionate spirit. I join you in hoping her life has left that particular hurt far behind!
Neat post.