Small bites, Deep Breaths

No one told me that turning 25 brought with it a quarter life crisis. If I had known, I might have braced myself. You might have had to drag me kicking and screaming towards my birthday. But I was happily ignorant. Excited, even.

Looking back, I should have known the crisis was coming. There were tell-tale signs. Like, the Monday before my birthday, Colin and I went out to dinner at Pasta Vino. It was excellent. We had a huge vat of mussels in a delicious, buttery garlic sauce. We scooped the mussels and sauce together and consumed it with gusto. When the mussels were gone, I took the warm sourdough bread and dipped that, tipping the dish like the classy broad I am, until I had emptied the bowl. Our dinner salads were exquisite: Colin’s was a blue cheese and spring green mix, and mine a spinach salad with cherries and walnuts, both garnished with kalamata olives. Then the main course: chicken with a creamy, garlic (surprise!) sauce, caramalized onions, cherries…

I was full before they ever set the main course down in front of me. But Colin plowed on like a trooper, encouraging me to do the same. I took small bites and deep breaths. I finished maybe a quarter of my entrée before they took it away to be boxed up. Of course we ordered dessert: raspberry gelato with a dark chocolate shell. The chef, a large, red-faced and jovial looking man, came out to check on us. The food was fantastic we said. Orgasmic, we said.

But I digress. The first clue to the upcoming quarter life crisis happened after we got home, in a giant, dual food induced coma, and prepared to watch a movie of Colin’s choice: Howard the Duck. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the film, it features what looks like a midget in a duck costume.

When the movie opens, he’s on his own planet, a planet of ducks. He’s in a lounger, in his living room, watching television. Somehow, and I’m a little unsure of the details because I was too dumbfounded to be paying proper attention, Howard gets transported to our planet. It’s the 80’s, by the way. We’re talking the height of big bangs and crimped hair. Our heroine, a gal with hair the fits the description perfectly, is the lead singer in a band. After the gig the night, she’s on her way home. It’s late. Howard’s hiding in a trash can because the days events have utterly overwhelmed him and he’s had several near death experiences. Suddenly, the hooligans appear and start harassing big bangs. Howard comes to the rescue, webbed feet flying. It is utterly surreal. That’s when I fell asleep.

It’s kinda like, I’m Howard. I’m 25 and suddenly I fell out of my element, on a different planet. Like the wind shifted and my perspective changed. The camera pans out and spins around you, showing you from all angles. It’s dizzying.


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