Dinner at Angelos

Remember when you’re at family dinners to mind the words you say. Don’t say "fuck" unless absolutely necessary, I mean, their not uptight they can take it, but only in a needed sense. Remember to watch your aunt and only drink as many glasses of beers as she does, even if you want waaaay more. Make grown-up small talk to your Mom about those bitches she works with and combative political dialogue with your republican father about the war. Don’t get too involved, too drunk, or look too bored. These are the rule everyone must follow in a situation like this. In a run down, independent Italian restaurant with an asian waitress and a dated Bud Light poster on the wall when you walk in.

Try and sit by your brother because he’ll hear your remarks on your breath and give you a genuine laugh. When they’re talking about their upcoming trip through Europe, say things like "wow" and "how cool" instead of "where are you getting all the money, didn’t Jeff just lose his restaurant and then get laid off from is loan job?"

When the food comes, eat a modest portion; a slice of pizza, small bites of everyone elses food, one piece of bread. Save more room for beer since you’ve nixed the idea of staying at pace with your aunt.

Don’t make eye contact with your cousin. You don’t like her and she doesn’t like you, she spends ten minutes talking about the different cuts of jeans she likes and then complains of being full after two bites of pasta. You imagine her throwing it up later. Ramming her skinny finger down her throat coughing up the slimy noodles and being so pleased with herself as they plop into the toilet. Doubtful, she’s naturally thin and inherently ugly. She has a big nose and one of those loud obnoxious voices, "Daddy don’t!"

When dinner is finished don’t play with your food. or the sugan packets. or the salt shaker. Be cautious everyone is englufed in their own conversation, then pour yourself the last of the beer.

I hate saying goodbye to people I know I’m not going to see for a while. I feel awkward. Standing and waiting, deciding which people I’m close enough to to hug. The say bye to each other so casually, so easy. I stand, tense, finally get a half hearted hug from my aunt and uncle and then nod to the rest of them, tell them all I will see them at Christmas, and am safely ushered to my parent’s backseat.

More buzzed then anyone else, and only half as happy.