I was amply buzzed on red wine and enjoying myself at the dinner party. The hosts were an accomplished, bohemian, friendly, and fun couple. Other guests included a designer, writer, doctor, and so on. Being in the host's home for the first time was a treat. They had lived there since the seventies, and had loads of vintage pictures, cooking utensils, and other decorations to eye. Hippie chic, I like it. A lot.
We sat at a large round table in the dining room, with cloth napkins that were all different. No matchy-matchy here! When the salad course came around, I was served by the gentleman on my left. How sweet. (Ah! I liked him so far. Did he want to be my gay boyfriend? I've had some, but they seem to come and go at a leisurely rate. So, I'm usually on the lookout for a new one.) The crisp salad greens and toasted pecans tasted fresh, and were dressed in a simple vinaigrette. We continued gossiping and laughing, and I felt like it was a great party.
Then, the beautiful wooden salad bowl made another round. Life was good. Sure, why not? The first course had been soup and a little more salad would be nice. I served myself, since my PGB (Potential Gay Beau) was busy talking. My eyes bulged and throat and mouth went dry when I looked down at my plate. Next to my salad lay a large, still, brown cockroach. I giggled and turned to PGB to nearly say, "Ha-ha! The joke's on me! I got the fake bug. You guy's really got me!" I thought it was some sort of weird, lame practical joke. But no. That sucker was huge, real and very dead.
Action time: I grabbed the bottle of red and hastily poured as much wine as my glass would hold. I did some quiet gulping as I nervously eyed my plate, unsure how to act. I didn't want to interrupt the rowdy conversation. Nor could I fathom embarrassing the hosts, or grossing out my fellow table mates. I drank some water and swished it in my teeth a little since my mouth was still dry. Easy to blame the dry mouth on the dead bug shock, but the wine may have had a role.
I poked the cockroach with my fork. Yep, he was still dead. I decided to roll some of the salad around him, to hide his presence. I lifted him slightly with my fork and knife to get full coverage. The rest of the salad course seemed to go on and on. I didn't contribute much else to the conversation until the plates were clear and out of sight.
I could barely wait to tell Oscar in the cab ride home what had happened. He felt sorry for me, but we did laugh. The Buggin' Out episode tested my coping and acting skills because we used to have cockroaches and mice in our apartment. Of course, they only seemed to show up when I was around.
But that's another story.
It's funny, but I had never in my life even seen a roach on the west coast until my current apartment -- where I live over a number of restaurants. My wild guess? The little guy was probably in the greens before your host even purchased them, if only because even the roaches I do see here are rarely larger than a fingernail (and therefore half the size of my old buggy friends in Brooklyn or the Palmetto Bugs in the Carolinas).
Posted by: Jackson West | July 24, 2006 at 07:27 PM
OMG ...too much! LOL you crack me up! i thought you'd dump wine on that roach, but i remembered you value good wine and conversation...
Posted by: CarmenSanJose | July 27, 2006 at 03:20 PM
Jackson: This was a big one, so your guess that it came from the bag may be on target.
CarmenSanJose: Ew, that would've been funny to dump the wine on the bug but my fear was, "What if it's not dead and decides to jump on me?".....
Posted by: Mary Ladd | July 28, 2006 at 03:09 PM