Despite the luxurious accommodations, I couldn’t sleep for most of the visit. The most continuous sleep I racked up was five hours. As a result, I found myself, on more than one occasion, wandering Salisbury at night. The hotel’s concierge confidently recommended the same pub with a “full and proper British food menu.” Oddly, when I asked where she recommended, she told me about a wine and cheese bar that doesn’t serve any entrees. I speculated that in my sleep-deprived state, I must have looked like someone who preferred to drink their dinner.
On a particularly unsettling evening, I wandered over to the wine bar for a glass of wine. The sommelier showed me three size measurements and explained that depending on the guest would indicate how much wine they wanted. The smallest little splash was for someone driving, the middle was for someone who might not want much or want to sample different things, and the large was for “women.” I explained that the inverse was true in the States. In America, we rate our bartenders’ quality by how much they pour.
Seated at the bar, a married couple on a date night sat next to me. I’m sure they anticipated a quiet evening of looking lovingly into each other’s eyes.
Unfortunately for them, I am chatty and I had lots of opinions that I couldn’t keep myself from sharing. The English people are too polite to tell you that they don’t really care why you hate Uber. I have no doubt that it was the least romantic date night that couple has ever had.
That experience was only topped, and by topped I mean made low, by the night I was at an adjacent table to a couple on their first date.
My presence in the bar inspired the couple to share their stories of the States, which almost immediately devolved into them loudly arguing about what building material would be the most resistant to a tornado in England. They don’t get tornadoes in England and this couple was never going to get to the point of buying a house together so I don’t know why it mattered. I quietly excused myself to pay my tab and walked out. Despite being on a date, the guy asked me if he could come by my hotel later. I declined that classless offer.
I then popped into a pub next to my hotel. The bartender looked like he was twelve. While advising me on the various pubs in Salisbury, he broke several glasses. Oddly he broke a couple, then cleaned them up, and then broke a couple more. He said that I brought bad mojo with me. He had no idea how right he was. He gently suggested I leave and go to another pub. Revenge against a wrathful universe is treating others with kindness. I took his advice and left the pub. I shouldn’t be drinking away my grief anyway.
Day 136 is at https://www.wantmybabyback.com/blog/day-136.