It’s always good, the feeling you get when you walk into a high class restaurant you could never afford on your normal budget, but you can at this point, because you just got paid a hefty sum of money. It’s only 200 dollars, but treat yourself anyway. After-all whats life, if you don’t indulge the tendencies that lean towards a higher class. Having the woman look at you and think, he must be some young hot-shot entrepreneur. I dress the part, because I wear good clothing, despite being relatively poor and having about 30 dollars to spend a week.
At this point, I am able to imagine my life in 10 years in only two possible ways.
I walk into a small-town bar, with relatively no clientele, it smells of cheap bear and frugally roasted nuts. Hung-over, I make my way to the bar stool. A man sits far away, who knows my life story. His friend asks him, clearly seeing the pity on his face as related to the very sight of me, who I am. The man replies ” He’s a rather tragic case, he had at any given moment, a potential that I have only seen in groups, collaborating restlessly”.
The other way, relates to the good feeling I get when I patronize a restaurant, a place that I could only afford on the daily basis, if I were wealthy. I have hope that this rare feeling I am allowed to have is what will propel me to take this route in life.
I park my sedan, and proceed to the restaurant. I enter through the back, showing the people as well as the waiters that I am a frequent flyer on this plane of delicious indulgence. The waitress greets me, she knows I am a friend and not a foe. She proceeds to seat me, walking in front of me, with her perky waist, making almost a wand motion from side to side, like a small wave on a warm quiet beach. I sit.