If only the kebabs hadn’t smelled so good.
I had an event to attend in Bethesda last night. And for the first time ever, my honey went along with me for moral support. It’s not that he’s disinterested in what I do, he’s just usually home with the kids if I need to work at night.
We had twenty minutes before I had to be there. Neither of us had eaten much all day but we only had time to grab a quick coffee. So after parking the truck we headed across what appeared to be a promising courtyard for a double shot.
We were only looking for a caffeine fix. That was, until the smell of smokey eggplant, charred meat, and cracker-thin Persian pita permeated our sinuses. We stopped at the door to the kebob place and read the stickers covering the glass…Zagat 2011, Zagat 2012, Zagat 2013, etc, etc. It seems that particular restaurant was not to be missed, so the hubby and I went in and were immediately shuffled to a two-seater in the storefront window. "We need to eat fast, please" I politely informed the server.
Minutes after ordering, the television almost directly over my head started flashing "Breaking News" across the screen. Paris had been attacked less than two hours earlier in not one but six separate well-orchestrated assaults. At that time, an estimated fifty people were dead and approximately one hundred hostages had been taken.
But here’s the really strange thing–no one was paying attention. Only myself and my husband, who became increasingly quiet. Our hunger pangs subsided as we read the subtitles in broken English.
Next was my event. My very hot date (as in silent rage not lady-killer), a handful of colleagues, forty+ strangers and myself, gathered at a lovely contemporary venue on Wisconsin Avenue.
The intimate space was nearly full. We spent three hours making small talk, mingling, and other socially awkward activities for someone like me who easily tires of pre-packaged nicities. I heard, "you’re lovely" between questions about my craft and a guest speaker who is well known in D.C. and not shy in saying so. But all I could think about was getting home and having my family together.
Because in the time frame of three hours, in a group of advanced professionals, in the capital of our nation, not one word of concern or otherwise was offered for Paris.
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