In spite of all the recent modern advances in health
and technology, it seems many areas of life, at least in the United States, are
becoming coarser. Somewhere along the
line, "classy" become a rarely used word, except in a sarcastic sense.
The author first began thinking about this at a
dance recital at a very upscale theater.
The seating area and stage were beautiful, and the lobby was appointed
in gorgeous carpet and silken draperies.
As I strolled the lobby during intermission, I was attracted to a portable bar served by an
elegant gentleman in a tuxedo. A glass
of wine seemed to add to the delicious ambiance until I noticed my "glass," containing
three ounces of one of the best sherries available, was a plastic device that
would easily come apart.
To continue with food, I cannot help but
notice that even the best of restaurants serve various sweeteners in those
little blue, yellow, and white packets.
These packets do take the difficulty out of differentiating among sugar, aspartame,
or saccharine and they have the added advantage of protecting diners from
children who cannot keep fingers and tongues out
of real sugar bowls, but something about hearing the elegantly attired woman at
the next table shaking her sugar/or other sweetener to the bottom of the
envelope so that it may be opened without spoiling her little black dress really detracts from the fine dining experience.
I could go on about food. We have not even started
on the foil-wrapped butter or margarine, but perhaps we should move on to
fashion. Of course, there are the
perennial low hanging oversize shorts, but teenagers have always flaunted
convention so that sort of thing does not bother me. Nothing chronicles the decline of flying from
a classy adventure to the bus ride it
has become better than the track suit as travel attire. We used to dress for flights; now we fashion
ourselves in clothing that even track stars take off before they perform.
OK, so flying is not a fashionable activity any
longer. But when did designer jeans come
ripped so much that my mother would not have let me out of the house to play in
the mud with them on many years ago? I
don't mean to sound snobbish; a pair of well worn jeans on a hard working man
or woman is truly dignified, but to pay for clothing in this condition? And wear it outside the work site? I know, deconstruction has been popular since
Marlon Brando's ripped tee shirt (exposing an equally "ripped" set of
abs) or Jennifer Beals' beautifully ragged
sweat shirt, but hasn't this trend gone far enough?
And speaking of fashion -- muscle shirts...flip
flops...scrubs...backward ball caps.
Enough fashion, back to food, or more correctly how
it is served. Here I am in a dark
restaurant enjoying a very intimate conversation with a beautiful woman when a
young girl interrupts everything to introduce herself and explain that she will be my server tonight. A little later, she will be back to try
to clear my plate with a cheery "ya still working on that?" "Well," I want to respond,
"if it were worthy of the insane price I will be billed for it shortly, I
would be gently savoring each morsel rather than working on it, but you can
take it now."
OK, let's move on to a more favorite subject,
booze. Some of my favorite places are
bars, and I thought the first sports bar I was in was really cool. TV's on each wall, framed sports memorabilia everywhere;
just the place for conversation and consolation as I watch my favorite team get
clobbered by bigger and faster rivals.
But I also like dark, quiet, intimate bars where one can savor a drink
or a deep moment with a friend, without some guy whose vocabulary seems limited
to "no question about it" explain why the team that scores the most will probably win on several TV's in my eye - and
hearing - line. There used to be many
such places. As the raven said...well,
you get it.
And then there are bumper stickers. I have a deep fondness for passionate people
who wear their hearts on their sleeves.
But paste your heart to the decaying bumper of a 1972 Cavalier? I hope there is a better place to hang that
heart.
Of course, even if we could get this all under
control, there would still be tee shirts as semi-formal attire, light beer,
white zinfandel, eating utensils wrapped in a rolled napkin rather than
"set" at the table, and plastic tubs of margarine/non-dairy
spread. I will just keep looking for a
glass of sherry in a dark bar appointed with leather chairs and polished
oak.
