My State dinner

Tuesday, a beautiful winter evening. The weather was fine for a short walk. I locked the door to the hovel I was living in at the time, although I don’t know why. I came upon the house three blocks away. Pink trim, purple shutters, god, who decorated this place? Probably the last owners, since two guys lived here now and worked in the steel mill, not an easy job, rather one that would build muscle on the weakest of men. I was 18 and ignorant. I had some New York City street smarts, which actually had gotten me into trouble with the Virginians, before. I decided to keep my mouth shut. Don’t judge people too fast, I said, probably how I wound up accepting a dinner invitation in the first place. I rang the doorbell, and the door was whipped open, almost too hastily. One of my hosts stood there, with every tooth in his head smiling. A real contrast, since we were used to seeing each other, at work, dressed in all our black glory. Steel dust permeated every pore of your skin. Your clothes were black. Everyone wore black, no matter which color shirt they had chosen this morning. Vernon led the way.

The room had an odor. Something one would become accustomed to over time. The foyer and study definitely had a woman’s touch. A couple of cocktails, to loosen up before dinner, had their desired effect. I was damned near happy as we sat down to eat. The table was dressed in all the finery of a State Dinner in the White House, not that I would know. Crystal, china, and sterling silver, not a hodgepodge, but full sets, shone in the room, making an exceptionally attractive picture. Jeepers, how could two guys put together such a magnificent looking table, in such a tasteful manner? Maybe I’m missing the other side of male behavior. Just let it go. Sit back, relax, have dinner.

Dana entered the dining room dressed in an apron, with little yellow flowers printed on it. OK, so what? The ham smelled great as they brought all the trimmings to the table. Champagne was offered and I poured some into my flute. Dom Perignon…not the best but better than most. They were sparing no expense. Vernon lit the candles. Nice touch, I thought. The meal started by saying grace, holding hands, with some difficulty, across the table. Alright, I’ve done that before. The food was delicious, and the conversation light, as we finished up. The “Pro Bowl” was on TV, but they chose not to watch, after glossing over my casually mentioning it. Maybe they’re not fans, I thought. By now I was putting two and two together. Man, am I slow on the uptake! It was hard to believe. Two guys in a tough, dirty job. I’m liberally minded…so what…it doesn’t apply to me…to each his own.

The icing on the cake arrived after several more drinks at the bar. “Let’s play darts”, Vernon said. “Sure”, I replied, since I was experienced at the game, but not at what was about to follow. Dana said, “Let’s make it ‘strip’ darts”. I felt myself starting to melt. My heart raced. I felt like a rat in a trap. I excused myself and headed toward the bathroom. I turned on the water, making sure it would drain, and opened the window.

I started a new job with the Highway Department on Wednesday.