Last night I was invited to dinner at the home of an old friend, a guy I went to college with and have seen maybe only a dozen times since, at a few poker games and, most recently, at my house for the Fourth of July. He’s a prosperous man, but has had some tough times (special needs kid, divorce) so my general attitude to him is sympathetic and supportive (I like to think I’m that way with all friends, but some need a heart-felt hand more than others).
Anyway, last night he invited me and some other college buddies to his house. At the door, I saw the first warning signs of looming displeasure: lines of shoes randomly cast off by people who, like me, hadn’t planned on disrobing upon entry. “I’ll have to ask you to remove your shoes,” he said. “Have to” ask me? Odd locution, as though this request was compelled by some higher power to which we were both of too puny a constitution to resist.
Now, at the homes of people who know me well and indulge idiosyncrasies, I might have responded differently. At justjoan’s home, for instance, when she asked if I’d remove my shoes, I asked if I could just stand on the carpet in the hallway for the remainder of the night – that worked out fine, people brought me drinks, and my feet remained nicely enclosed, warm and protected.
Last night, I was recovering from a cold when I complied with this friend's seeminingly simple request. After having my feet chilled for several hours, I find that my head cold symptoms have worsened; my weekend plans now look dim. Going out to eat with nearly naked feet seems to have aggravated my temporarily delicate condition. At least, that’s what I’m blaming it on.
Throughout this two-year old thread, several have commented on the inappropriateness of this topic to the forum, but I disagree. We are, all of us, sharp eyed critics of hospitality generally and the Restaurant and Hospitality Industry specifically. Going out to eat without creating, or being subject to, inhospitable surroundings is a natural topic of conversation for people who go out to eat a lot, whether in restaurants or private homes. My dining experience was severely impaired by the constant discomfort that began when I walked in the door, and this sense of health-threatening chilliness and vulnerability stayed with me until it was time to put on my shoes and leave: in the air-conditioned house, my toes were almost numb as I sniffled, coughed and attempted to garner what heat I could from alcohol and coffee. Once my shoes were on, I felt like Superman when the Kryptonite goes back into the lead box: still very weak, but with some strength returning.
Last night’s experience has suggested that I should, like John Mariani, print personal preferences on the back of my business cards, something on the order of Hugh Hefner’s legendary door plaque, "Si Non Oscillas, Noli Tintinnare." In my case, the motto on the card’s obverse would read “Si meus shoes vado, EGO vado.”
"Don't you ever underestimate the power of a female." Bootsy Collins