i'll taco while you talk-o
This one afternoon last semester, I had ordered a fish taco and was sitting by myself contently surfing the 'net at Dos Coyotes when this dude from my class and his 2L girlfriend walked by and sat down at a neighboring table. He then came over and said hello, and said that I was welcome to join his table, unless I had work to do. Not knowing how to rebuff this friendly gesture, seeing as I was clearly doing nothing to advance my academic career or the common good, I mumbled an acceptance of his offer and relocated to the table.
As the minutes passed, I was mortified to see that about eight other law students joined, none of whom I had any intention of befriending. Not that they're not perfectly nice people in their own right.
As the conversation progressed, people in the group started reminiscing on how popular they had been in high school, and then repenting the mean things they had done to less
popular people. I could not on any level identify with being popular -- having descended from the wrong continent for such an aspiration even to have resounded my radar, for one -- but the discussion nonetheless allowed me to introspect on two matters: 1) Even with my abysmally inferior social status, I had found ways to be a pretty big asshole, and I wonder if some of the people with whom I've since lost contact still remember and resent me for it; and 2) A ton of people had been assholes to me, and I wonder if they, like these ex-populars, ever recall and bemoan their past behavior.
One incident in particular stands out from junior high, actually. I used to wait for my mom to pick me up after school, and this girl named Katie Gravestone (close enough) who bore a startling resemblance to "The Brain" was waiting in the same area and asked to play my clarinet. I didn't want to let her, since I didn't look too fondly upon the idea of her salivating on my instrument, but being a world-class pushover, I handed it right over. She attempted to play it, minus the reed. Someone else soon joined the vicinity and asked her why she wasn't applying the reed, and she loudly and matter-of-factly declared, "She could have AIDS, for all I know!" I said nothing in my defense, oddly gratified that the perception of me as a foreign, diseased creature had prevented this filthy ignorant bitch from tonguing my precious reed.
Flashing forward again to Dos Coyotes, the conversation then steered to people revealing things about themselves that others might find surprising. One person had been in her high school marching band, and another had been a cheerleader, which was somehow
supposed to be surprising. 
Then they asked me what I could say about myself that would be surprising, and I said that I did not know what would be surprising, since I did not know what would be unsurprising. They agreed that it would be a hard question to answer since they had just met me, so I was let off the hook. But really, sometimes I wonder what impression I could possibly give off, such that anything about my uneventful ass would serve as a shocker. These are some observations my colleagues may have made:
As the minutes passed, I was mortified to see that about eight other law students joined, none of whom I had any intention of befriending. Not that they're not perfectly nice people in their own right.
As the conversation progressed, people in the group started reminiscing on how popular they had been in high school, and then repenting the mean things they had done to less
popular people. I could not on any level identify with being popular -- having descended from the wrong continent for such an aspiration even to have resounded my radar, for one -- but the discussion nonetheless allowed me to introspect on two matters: 1) Even with my abysmally inferior social status, I had found ways to be a pretty big asshole, and I wonder if some of the people with whom I've since lost contact still remember and resent me for it; and 2) A ton of people had been assholes to me, and I wonder if they, like these ex-populars, ever recall and bemoan their past behavior. One incident in particular stands out from junior high, actually. I used to wait for my mom to pick me up after school, and this girl named Katie Gravestone (close enough) who bore a startling resemblance to "The Brain" was waiting in the same area and asked to play my clarinet. I didn't want to let her, since I didn't look too fondly upon the idea of her salivating on my instrument, but being a world-class pushover, I handed it right over. She attempted to play it, minus the reed. Someone else soon joined the vicinity and asked her why she wasn't applying the reed, and she loudly and matter-of-factly declared, "She could have AIDS, for all I know!" I said nothing in my defense, oddly gratified that the perception of me as a foreign, diseased creature had prevented this filthy ignorant bitch from tonguing my precious reed.
Flashing forward again to Dos Coyotes, the conversation then steered to people revealing things about themselves that others might find surprising. One person had been in her high school marching band, and another had been a cheerleader, which was somehow
supposed to be surprising. Then they asked me what I could say about myself that would be surprising, and I said that I did not know what would be surprising, since I did not know what would be unsurprising. They agreed that it would be a hard question to answer since they had just met me, so I was let off the hook. But really, sometimes I wonder what impression I could possibly give off, such that anything about my uneventful ass would serve as a shocker. These are some observations my colleagues may have made:- I am brown.
- I rarely talk.
- I rarely smile.
posted by Leena @ 5:31 PM
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