Spiny Lobster

I LOVE lobster, but in the Midwest where I have usually lived lobster is too expensive to have very often. So as soon as I reached the coast of Maine, on the way to finding my end-of-life, forever home, I looked around for less expensive, fresh-caught lobster. According to the billboards lobster was still pricey here on the coast, but I stopped at a charming seafood restaurant anyway. I would pay the price and enjoy the lobster to celebrate my arrival in Maine.

I ordered something that I had never had before, a lobster roll. As the waitress took my order and she heard my voice (mid-western accent which is standard American English), I saw her developing that off-putting Mainer attitude that I would soon come to know that Mainers habitually use to reject "foreigners", those who come from "away" from Maine. This restaurant would take my money, give me some food, but intended to let me feel every moment how much I was not wanted here in the State of Maine. I put a happy face on it and ordered anyway. What I was seeing did not seem believable. Within minutes I saw the chef peeking out from the kitchen door, with my waitress at his side pointing me out. The chef stared at me so long I wondered if there was some serious problem going on behind me, but the object of his glower seemed to be me. Still I hoped for the best. When my lobster roll arrived it was far from best, one taste of it and I opened the roll to find bad lobster gone gray instead of the fresh, white meat I had expected. That could only be intentional. I do not remember if I complained or not, being old and travel weary it may have taken me a while to process what had happened.

Now, over two years later, I did not write this to be mean, but rather I wrote this because it is true. I was old and ill and they hurt me, many times.

Spiny Lobster