Inglorious

Inglorious! That's the word some friends of ours used during our couple's dinner date in the fast and furious spaces of Clarendon in Arlington. (The wikipedia article mentions some great Vietnamese eats that sadly have disappeared. Our favorite was Cafe Da Lat and we ate there shortly before it closed. So sad!)

We're back in the States and it feels so strange to see so many young professionals (my mother-in-law calls them yuppies) together on Friday night out. It kind of feels like I'm experiencing college fraternity row extended life! But, I didn't get carded!

Back to the word inglorious. That's the word some friends of ours used when my husband Tweet decided to describe our time out of college in terms of fraction of century. Tweet likes to speak in terms of centuries. I don't know why. What I know is if we were talking about something that happened ten years ago, he'll describe it as a tenth of a century ago. I'd prefer describing the anniversary as a decade but so it goes.

Our friends didn't like the century description but I had to laugh. It's a good way to look at something when you are part of a generation that straddles two centuries - the 20th and 21st!

The B&B Spin and Why Words Matter

I arrive with Tweet at a wonderful south Asian bed and breakfast that we’ve found online. This trip is our R&R from our home away from home, and it’s a belated birthday gift. We’re the only guests at the small resort on this rainy afternoon.

The hotel manager comes out and as we begin our tour, and immediately tells us about a wedding party, “You know, a local wedding party considered moving in here for the weekend . . . “ The B&B manager pauses (and my face falls), “But I explained to the local family how we had already booked a nice couple in the nicest room at our B&B and that you had requested peace and quiet.”

I process this information internally. “Wow we’re so lucky that he read between the lines of my email inquiry to find a peaceful place,” I think.

Tweet, as always, patiently listens to the manager explain what he did to prevent the other party from booking, and then offers, “Well thank you but you know there is no need to prevent other guests. We like to meet new people. If you want to invite them back, please feel free. Don’t hold them back on our account.”

I think to myself, “Tweet, no! I do want peace and quiet and I don’t want to share this great view.”

The next day a local couple shows up. They look quickly at a room and then leave. We have the B&B to ourselves for the entire five days.

On the day we checkout, we have some overlap with a newly-arrived couple, who look not too unlike ourselves – young professionals who haven’t been outside to much. Out comes the manager speaking in a tone of voice I’d heard before, “You know, a local wedding party considered moving in here today . . . But I explained to them how . . .”

I look at Tweet. He smiles, “You knew, didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t know that I just got a line.”

Tweet says, “Well you felt good. That’s all that matters. And it’s not what’s being said but why it’s being said that matters.”