THAT Other Half
So last night we went to one of those bastions of unadulterated societal glory, The Old Guard. A plethora of WASPs all clad in Burberry with oversized coats-of-arms. Of course, we are not members, something that was hammered home not a minute into the elevator at Trump Tower. An ancient gentleman cocked his head at my fiancee and me and wondered aloud, "Are you members of this club?" He asked this in a patrician timbre with more than a bit of condescension. His eyes were wide and suspicious.
When we reached the 9th (or was it 10th?) floor we were met with many more stares of unrecognition. I could almost hear their thoughts. We were dressed up but the bluebloods can smell an imposter. I loved every minute. A true sociological experiment. We went to the patio and gazed at all the plebians down on Flagler Drive, many of them stumbling drunks enjoying the last daylight of SunFest, an annual music and arts extravanganza that has grown exponentially since its inception in 1982. We were here to watch the fireworks. My father-in-law to be is a member of the Old Guard (well, not in EVERY sense; he is from India, after all) and got us in. Wasn't terribly thrilled about going, honestly. We ate a slightly below average dinner; they served fried chicken for cryin' out loud. The rice reminded me of my elementary school cafeteria. The salmon was pretty good. As we ate, we listened to snatches of conversations, all of them sounding like rejected New Yorker cartoon captions. Great fun. Beyond satire? Maybe.
Yes, I'm riffing a bit hard on these folks, but I just call it as I see it. I certainly am not feeling superior n any possible way. Call me the cranky observer. And I'm always seeking to be fair; we did spend some quality time with a randy gent who is making it possible for us to have our wedding in a certain local club. His genuine wit and personality made the evening quite a bit more platable. And the fireworks were impressive yet again. Surprising, given the economy and all.
But thank the Lord I am about to marry a lady who doesn't care a whit that I have no aspirations to be a part of any such "old guard." I raise a brandy to you all, though. But now if you'll excuse us, we'll party elsewhere.
When we reached the 9th (or was it 10th?) floor we were met with many more stares of unrecognition. I could almost hear their thoughts. We were dressed up but the bluebloods can smell an imposter. I loved every minute. A true sociological experiment. We went to the patio and gazed at all the plebians down on Flagler Drive, many of them stumbling drunks enjoying the last daylight of SunFest, an annual music and arts extravanganza that has grown exponentially since its inception in 1982. We were here to watch the fireworks. My father-in-law to be is a member of the Old Guard (well, not in EVERY sense; he is from India, after all) and got us in. Wasn't terribly thrilled about going, honestly. We ate a slightly below average dinner; they served fried chicken for cryin' out loud. The rice reminded me of my elementary school cafeteria. The salmon was pretty good. As we ate, we listened to snatches of conversations, all of them sounding like rejected New Yorker cartoon captions. Great fun. Beyond satire? Maybe.
Yes, I'm riffing a bit hard on these folks, but I just call it as I see it. I certainly am not feeling superior n any possible way. Call me the cranky observer. And I'm always seeking to be fair; we did spend some quality time with a randy gent who is making it possible for us to have our wedding in a certain local club. His genuine wit and personality made the evening quite a bit more platable. And the fireworks were impressive yet again. Surprising, given the economy and all.
But thank the Lord I am about to marry a lady who doesn't care a whit that I have no aspirations to be a part of any such "old guard." I raise a brandy to you all, though. But now if you'll excuse us, we'll party elsewhere.
Comments
May their isolation from the rest of society leave a bad taste in their mouths.
B