Loser Thanksgiving

November 25, 2008 at 11:14 am Leave a comment

How few people does it take to have a pathetic Thanksgiving? Two? One? Twenty? It depends on how hung-up you are on the “more is better because it means I’m wanted” philosophy. I wish I didn’t succumb to that school of thought, but I have.Though decades of Thanksgivings should have carved the knowledge into my thick head that a crust of bread in peace is preferable to a feast in chaos, I still seek shelter in the extrovert side of my Myers-Briggs when I hear that gobble.

My worst Thanksgiving was in San Francisco. I had just moved there to pursue my dream of being a stand-up comedian. I knew very few people, and the ones I knew, I knew on the level that even someone who tends to call acquaintances “friends,” would call acquaintances. I thought about dishing out food to the homeless, or even joining them at their homeless people table, but I wasn’t in the mood for colorful stories of travels or woe.

I refused to go home and eat a frozen Turkey dinner, nor did I want to order a catered dinner for one. I felt so alone and loser-ly at this point, I decided to go for it. The Buddhists call this “residing in the eye of the poostorm.” I’m sure it sounds a lot more spiritual in Sanskrit. So I went to a Denny’s or an IHOP some other 24/7 black hole of humanity, got a table for one (there was no way I was going to spend Thanksgiving sitting on a stool-even I have my limits) and ordered the Turkey dinner. The one available 365 days a year. Masochist that I am, I forced myself to look around and smile at the families who gathered here for an All American Feast. Then I went home, sat around with my dog for a few forevers, and then fell asleep while counting friends I wish I had.

I often revise this story as a personal best in my file of cool, ballsy, fun, things I’ve done in my life. But I know even though I know that being a liar is infinitely more pathetic that being alone.

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No, mom, I know what happened at the end Creosote on my nose

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