The Great Hunt

It seems that I am the only one in this café not on the typical lunch hour. Their stiff suits, pleated skirts, hair-sprayed hair and Franklin Covey calendars give them away as business professionals. I however, hide out here in the corner behind my laptop wearing my faded jeans, sand suede shoes and worn out polo under my track-jacket. Its situations like this reminding me I am a road warrior. I am not your vacation road warrior, but your business road warrior. The warrior, who lives out of a car, works odd hours, sits in daily traffic scanning for a decent radio station, changes clothes in a public restroom and eavesdrops on random conversations in places like these….a quaint café on the side road offering free wireless.

No matter how out of place I am I sit here curious to know what these people do with their lives. Each conversation I hear is drastically different. Some are louder than others while some are just plain pointless, at least to me. However I am the stranger in the room craving to join them in conversation just to feel at home and possibly blend in.

A few nights ago I was a guest at a dinner party in a friend’s family member’s home. I have met some of her family members before, but this particular evening I met a few new ones over a hot meal of brisket and fresh vegetables. Over the course of dinner the conversation jumped from topic to topic including one about hunting. Having never hunted anything in my life (except for a good find on a sale rack) I remained quite unless asked a specific question about hunting. At one point I jokingly said that in Oregon we care more about recycling, wearing flannel and hugging our trees than killing animals which was received with good laughter at the sarcasm I threw out. Various animals were mentioned and stories were told as I listened intently to a life style I was not familiar with. Eventually I was asked if I had ever been snipe hunting before in which I replied, “No, but I went fishing once!” I’m sure I shocked the family that I had only been fishing once, but the conversation stayed on snipe hunting as one family member went into detail about the event involving a duck, pillow case, flashlight, patience and the fun that is had by all in attendance. Another family member spoke up mentioning that we could go snipe hunting down the street as I wrinkled my brow and questioned aloud, “you can literally walk down the street, kill the animal before coming home and cooking it for the dinner table?” “This is Texas!” my friend sitting to my right said, which honestly made sense of it all. Only in Texas would you find such an event.

Later on the drive back to my friend’s house she openly admitted that snipe hunting was in fact not a real thing. With my shoulders drooping I was slightly disappointed that I had fallen for a gimmick. She went on to explain that snipe hunting is a common joke for the foolish in which they take someone (me) to a field and eventually leave them out there stranded and laughing at their own misfortune. I couldn’t help but laugh as I sat there in the backseat thinking back to my reactions and facial expressions earlier at the dinner table. They knew they had me at the beginning of the conversation and held me there until my friend caved in and told me the truth, nearly three hours later. She quickly followed up that she would have stopped the event if such a thing was carried out, but since no one in her family was taking the initiative she sat there egging on the conversation. What I believed was the truth, was in deed far from it.

As I sit here in the cafe corner eavesdropping on the various conversations surrounding me I wonder what the truth is. Is it me sitting here trying to blend in, or the locals trying to catch up over a plate of sandwiches and chips. It’s something about the stiffness of the corporate lunch hour….the deals settled, the cordial handshake, the signatures signed on the last page. It’s all invaded this café. It’s the snipe hunt these business men and women are after. They’re looking to earn the paycheck, move up the corporate ladder and retire in abundance. Quite possibly we’re all after the snipe hunt. We’ve all been fooled thinking if we can just earn a bit more money, get a better title, the corner office, etc. then life will be better.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll put on the suit, shine up my shoes and join the rest of the corporate lunch hour world hoping to make few more bucks. That is after I spend a few bucks on the lunch meal. If I fail, then I’ll ask some fool at the table next to me if they want to go snipe hunting. If nothing else it will provide a good laugh as I sit lonely in a strange town making more money for the big boss back in the office.