I Went On Vacation and All I Got Was This Stupid, Fat Wallet

I'm not very well traveled. I've been to Mexico, twice. That was not only to the same city, but also the same resort. I've gone to Canada, twice as well. Once was a two week drive up through Windsor, Toronto, and Quebec which still provides me with warm memories. The second time was a quarrel filled, shared bathroom mess with a girlfriend, which almost ended my days, due to a runaway lawn chair on the highway. So, I was happy to add a trip to the west coast to this list.

I went with a friend, this last weekend, to visit one of our mutual friends. One of the things, us land locked citizens were looking forward to, was the sushi. So our host had made reservations at a semi-swanky place for Saturday.

My travel buddy and I ordered and shared the entire night. Everyone said we made for a nice looking couple. We ordered a large bottle of sake together and the chef's choice sashimi plate. When this $50 selection arrived, it consisted of 11 different selections, 2-4 pieces of each, all wonderful except the octopus, which is still just too chewy to be labeled good. Besides that, we ordered some geoduck sashimi, flounder sashimi, clam shooters, a veggie tempura roll, and something else that I forget the name of.

There was only one problem with the meal. I didn't pay for it.

I've had house guests before and I make up a very warm and welcoming blow up bed. I take my guests to my favorite haunts, or places that I think they would like. I show 'em a good time and I don't expect anything in return. When I'm fighting with them over breakfast, about whether or not they can spring for my ham omelet and hash-browns, I usually give in. Mostly because I do the same thing for my hosts, when traveling, to say thanks for the roof.

Let's see if you are good at math. Go back a few paragraphs, and add up what we ordered at our sushi dinner. Go ahead, I'll wait.

OK, if you answered "About a $100 each for both of you glutenous bipeds", then you are correct. We knew we were tasting a type of freshness that we could not come by in a suburb of Chicago, so we didn't hold back. Besides, we were on vacation. But knowing we had ordered so much, we were speechless when the bill came, already processed on our host's credit card.

My mother is the nicest woman ever. She's even nicer than your mom. Being brought up by the nicest woman alive, I naturally became a nice boy. But not even nice, more than nice. Accommodating to the point of self neglect.

I grew up making such an effort to not inconvenience people that, in my late teens and to this day, I've had to shed a lot of that niceness, in a very conscious manner.

I was 12 and it was hot outside; Something that was painfully obvious since I was on a 5 mile bike ride to a friend's house. Halfway through the trip, I cursed as I passed the grocery store because my wallet was barren of even a penny, and I could not afford a beverage.

I was a trim little kid, but the sweat was pouring out seemingly from everywhere and I was starting to get a headache, as the sun superheated my pre-teen brain. The trip was not an incredible distance, nor was the trail hilly (I was in the midwest, after all) but it was a true test of stamina, and also an indication of my heat index inexperience (hot=stay inside.)

I finally arrived and dragged my sweat covered, dehydrated, headache riddled body up the drive and into my friend's house. It must have been obvious that the trip had taken a toll, because my friend's mom immediately offered me a cup of Kool-aid. I graciously declined.

I look back at this instance often, when assessing situations of personal niceness. Because, well ... let's be honest, that isn't being nice. It's an attempt to keep from inconveniencing someone with my dreadfully demanding, Kool-aid needs.

So, I would have never ordered so much food, on my friend's tab. I had started the trip with a set amount of cash, and had spent very little of it at that point. In fact, I was planning on pushing all my chips across the table, at dinner, and paying for myself and my host. I know my date was thinking the same. All in the name of nice.

Financial revenge came to mind. I thought about littering their house with twenties, when we returned from dinner. Something inside me felt guilty. Here was a guy who was putting me up for four days, has two kids, recently moved, bought a new house, had to endure a pay cut, and was buying me one of the top 10 most expensive dinners I've ever enjoyed. Accepting this moment of generosity, went against everything I had learned as a child, everything my mother had instilled in me. So what was I to do?

Nothing. I've decided to do nothing. But I have reserved the right for random, excessive, retaliatory niceness in the future. Thanks for the fish.