Turning Right on Red: Returning to the familiar

I always enjoy going back to Vermont. It's beautiful really any time of year and I think more and more about living there again some day; especially, since every year I return it seems a bit more distant. The divide between my high school acquaintances, friends, and favorite places widen. Walking on Church Street I half want to see old friends and half don't. This year for example, I saw Nick Obie, a perennially awkward encounter - more on that later. There are other things about coming home that also feel more familiar. My parent’s “Curb Your Enthusiasm” esque squabbles for example, are ridiculous, and I often wonder how common my experience is with my parents.

My dad was talking about this guy who made a table they were going to pick up and he was insisting to my mom: "I want you to shake his hand when you see him." "Ok" my mother said in a rather nonchalant manner. My dad continued: "No, I mean, when you meet him you need to see his hand." My mom said "I don't wanna shake his hand," but he persisted, "there's a reason the company's called 'Big paws,' you’ve gotta see this." All I could do was shake my head.

On our drive to Boston to meet the rest of the family for Thanksgiving my parents easily spent 15 minutes arguing about where to eat and get off the highway for dinner. As my mom fumbled with the Road Ahead app and my dad complained about every option she mentioned, we got further and further from West Lebanon (the "big" rest stop). My dad kept complaining about how we should have stopped there and how, as he originally suggested, we should have gone to “Angelinos.” "It would have so much quicker and right off the highway." "Dad," I tell him, "it's D'angelos" to which he repeated, "What's the name of it? It's not Angelinos?" He then goes off on this story of the time he called up Angelinos because he was disappointed with his sandwich. "You have to be careful at Angelinos, if you ask for a Philly cheese steak sandwich they don't put anything on it. I called them up, just said there's nothing in there. And the manager just told me that's their Philly steak sandwich. I had to tell them typically there's mushrooms and peppers."

This time around Vermont I also had an awkward encounter with an old high school acquaintance: Nick Obie. Every time I see this guy, which isn't very often (maybe once every other year) it's awkward. Which is better than it used to be when I actually held a grudge against him. The awkwardness stems from a story that happened over 5 years ago that Nick rightfully still feels bad about and for which he continues to apologize every time I see him.

It was the winter after I'd unfortunately landed back home with not much of a life after I graduated from college. My parents were heading out for the weekend and my dad jokingly said to me like he used to in high school: "don't throw any parties," and then added, "not that you could anyways since you don't really have friends around here anymore." I actually was angered by this, what I felt was a misplaced joke, and told my friends that I was going to show him and prove him wrong. I would throw a party just to spite him. The funny part was that in the end he was right. I think I maybe had 8-10 people over and one of them, Nick, was more a friend of a friend that I did not invite (despite what you may say Ryan).

Early on in the night, maybe around 10 pm he disappeared and after shortly confirming that he wasn't hooking up with one of the two girls there (that would have been surprising anyways) we learned he was in the downstairs bathroom. I asked if he was ok; after all I only observed him drink one or two beers. He replied that he was fine and that he'd be out in a minute. An hour later he was still there. I mistakenly ended up going to bed forgetting about him. The next morning he was gone but with a trace: Correction- a large trace. The porcelain toilet seat was somehow chipped, the toilet paper holder was torn out of the wall with the actual bar itself missing, and bloodstains were spattered around the walls of the bathroom.

To this idea I have no idea what happened in there. None of it makes sense. Obie was not answering his phone and no one else knew what happened either. He did actually go by the house supposedly with his dad afterwards while I was gone but determined he couldn't fix it and ran away, again ignoring my communications. When my parents came home I had no way to explain it. My dad was furious and demanded to see Nick but of course that was impossible. I spent so much time and energy trying to track this guy down to no avail. I demanded compensation (it was actually several hundred dollars worth of repairs because the whole wall had to be redone) and couldn't believe I had to take the blame for him.

I ran into him finally about 6-8 months later and he was very apologetic and ashamed. He actually wanted me to punch him in the face. I have to admit it was tempting but I knew it wouldn't solve anything. Honestly, he's kind of a sad figure. Over 5 years later he is still ashamed and embarrassed when we unexpectedly see each other but that’s how Burlington is, it’s a small town.

...Home is where the heart is