Weirdo With a Beard

Yesterday I started my day with a failure to go to yoga. I decided that instead of sweating out my demons I would lie with them, and I spent the morning wrapped in blankets warmed with repose. Once 1pm came round, I emerged from my cotton cocoon and ventured out to Whole Foods. I wanted to grab a quick bite before I met my friend Terry, whom I was to join at a BBQ. I thought that if I ate prior to the party I'd be less likely to succumb to the succulent meats. I was wrong.

We arrived at the party - where there wasn't a single familiar face - teeming with children, most of them dressed as superheroes; Spiderman, Iron Man, Wonder Woman, Batman; it was Spiderman's birthday. There was a giant bouncy-house set up in the backyard which occupied approximately 50% of the area. The remaining space was set aside for: adult seating, seating for the elderly and infirm, a table with an assortment of snacks and condiments, coolers full of beer and a glorious, giant smoking grill. I was immediately assailed by the scent of roasting meat, and as I opened my mouth to say hello to a woman I didn't know, the excess saliva drooled from my lips and was absorbed into my beard. "Just watering the plants," I said.

I moved away from the grill deliberately, warring with my eyes, disallowing their gaze to drift in its direction. My nose kept pointing toward it lecherously as the smells strut past flirtatiously in high-heels. My thoughts ran around it in circles excitedly, my tail always wagging. I knew it was only a matter of time before I would break free of my leash. I tried to distract myself and opened a beer to assuage some of the desire which sought to undo me. I shuffled awkwardly from place to place trying to strike up conversation with Irishmen native to the North. As I mentioned earlier, I knew no one, and as I stood bearded and suspicious, slowly sipping a Modelo, I realized I had inadvertently crashed a child's birthday-party.

I heard someone behind me speaking in a hushed voice say, "who's the weirdo with the beard aye?" I was sticking out like a poorly poured pint of Guinness and I couldn't do anything about it. It was only a matter of time before I began to startle the children. I casually drifted over to the table with the condiments on it and had an Irish scone to show my appreciation for their nation's pastry. It bit into my tongue like a mousetrap, and after my first taste I was stuck to it like a fly on paper. The scone, topped with fresh whipped cream and homemade strawberry jam, was delicious. I began to feast on scones with a voracity wholly inappropriate for the occasion. I'm not sure if it was out of discomfort, the sweet scones providing temporary relief from my alienation, or the sheer skill of the baker, but before I knew it I had consumed half a plate of scones. A blue-eyed ornery looking fellow wearing a JAWS t-shirt approached me, smirking, flashing a mouth full of razorsharps, and said "I see you like those scones, boy." Wiping the crumbs from my beard, speaking through a mouthful of jam, I said "Yea, they're amazing. I'd never had a scone with whipped cream and jam before."Wryly he said "You keep eating them like that and no one else will have either." Embarrassed, I laughed lightly, and saw that he wasn't smiling. My time was up at the snackbar, and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

When I returned to the backyard, I decided I would try to chat with the guy manning the grill. He was an easy target because he couldn't go anywhere. As I neared, I saw the sausages and hot-dogs and ribs and steaks and burgers glistening on the grill and felt my stomach kick, pregnant with hunger. What had I done? I'd walked into the belly of the beast. Now I had to remain there and speak to him, staring at the burgers that beckoned me. They sat perched on the grill sizzling, hissing like serpents, lunging at my stomach and sinking their fangs into my resolve. I'd been set up; sabotaged by my belly. It was the beast all along! Then the unthinkable happened - he asked if I wanted a burger. Needless to say, I couldn't refuse. Before I knew it I had devoured three burgers and showed no signs of stopping. I was transformed into an emaciated version of J. Wellington Wimpy, trying to bulk up.

Thankfully James arrived as I was reaching for my fourth, and I was able to escape orbit around the grill. He remarked that I seemed to be doing okay given I was amongst a group of strangers. I told him that I was okay, that I had gorged myself on scones and burgers to help pass the time.

"That was the card I was dealt today. Sometimes you're just the weirdo with a beard," I said.