I make eye contact with the host and signal to sit. I chose the communion bar table to my right. My company is late; the one who introduced me to this hole-in-the-wall snazzy Greek wine bar. The dimmed lights and warm ambience does something to the soul, the same effect comfort food has. As I get seated on the stool, I’m amused by an ornament that catches my eye on the bar opposite me. A monkey holding a sign that reads, “I’m doing a wine cleanse”.
We always sit at this table, it’s named the ‘misfits’ table. No reservation is needed to sit at this table. If it’s empty, it gets filled, and if it’s already full, we make space for more. Eventually, random people will join us, and when the restaurant is getting ready to close, we linger. The ‘misfits’ that end up on this table will do their own cleanse of sorts, kind of like that monkey. They cleanse their mind of the bothersome subjects of the day, and we all join in. At that moment, everyone has one thing in common; we are there to release, relax, and wine.
It was from this ‘misfits’ table, I learned that no matter who you are, what age or background, everyone has a story, and we all at some point in our lives need to do a cleanse. The stagnant thoughts that clutter our minds need to be addressed, and make room for air before new ones replace them. I observe the ones who talk a lot; they want to be heard. Others speak only when spoken to. Some will hop onto a topic because they’re interested.
I always associated ‘misfits’ with the quote ‘Here’s to the crazy ones’; I related to it. We think differently, encourage creativity, and challenge the status quo. I didn’t know I was crazy until I was set free. It happened much later in life, when I should have been behaving, I had the audacity. I became fanatical about living my life on my terms. I didn’t know I was a misfit until I ended up on this table.
I had always kept my thoughts to myself. My upbringing had a lot to do with it. There were many subjects we didn’t talk about. Every generation has ideals that leave a mark; my parents left a mark on me. I don’t blame them for anything, because that is all they knew, and that is all I was taught. As life panned out, I thought I was worldly. I traveled, and although it taught me many things, I remained an introvert because I never fit in.
When you discuss and debate, you bring forth opinions, and it helps to not only clarify, but to get another perspective on something you had a single opinion on; agree to disagree. It took me a long time to learn that talking helps. It helps you to realize you are not alone. Your problems seem smaller. Your opinions matter, and you have the right to own them. I became socially aware of my surroundings and began to read people. I was always out of place, but now I make myself fit in perfectly where I want.
The table becomes a meeting of therapists. Deep conversations happen when something is on your mind that needs to be addressed. Here, you can indulge in a topic and get an insight from all angles. You’re allowed the room to voice your concerns and opinions. More importantly, someone is listening. When someone is willing to listen to your thoughts with intent, you can open up, and that is when you begin to cleanse.
Some evenings, I leave exhausted because the subjects we discuss drain me. Other days, like today, we laughed a lot. I meet folks from different backgrounds and professions, and I’ve made friends who always find it a joy to see me when I show up. The next time I come, I know someone will remember me from a conversation, and we will carry on where we left off. It was this place that showed me diversity, culture, and age can live in harmony.
I watch our host walk her final guests to the door. She grabs a bottle of wine and joins us at the table. I commend her for her generosity and her ability to make everyone feel at home. She ends each day on this table for her own ‘wine’ cleanse. I always found it fascinating how food and drink bring people together. The right company makes everything palatable.
The candle flickers by my side, the wax trickles down the sides like lava, telling me the evening is almost over. I empty my glass of wine and bid farewell to my newfound friend. It feels good to talk. Tomorrow we will go about our lives until the next time we meet. There is no agenda, no promise, no hard feelings. I come back here because I, too, am a misfit and, of course, because no reservation is needed.
