I decided to venture out late this afternoon.  With my new handy-dandy laptop, I headed to Flemington, NJ, to The Great Lodge, this cafe I’ve passed several times since moving here.  I was hungry - it’s dinner time - and I have work that I need to do.

I can see through the cafe windows that a band is setting up to play although the place is largely empty.  When I walk in through the door, everyone looks surprised to see me walk in.  I can see it on their faces.  They all pause.  Time stopped ever so briefly. 

This immediately reminded me why I’m hesitant to leave the house around here.  No matter where I go, I stick out like a sore thumb.  I don’t mind sticking out sometimes and in some ways, but not in this way and not all the time.  I feel like a walking blinking neon sign whenever I leave my house.

The stunning lack of diversity here never fails to bowl me over.

I’m being treated differently, gingerly, almost.  I can read their faces: “We’ve never been in this situation before. Don’t want to be too friendly, like we’re new at this - but we don’t want to play it so cool that we’re cold, either.”  I can see them struggle to find a balance they feel comfortable with.  And it’s okay, because I’m uncomfortable, too.  I can feel their lack of experience with people who don’t look like them.  It’s almost palpable, hanging thick in the air.

As I approach the counter at the back of the cafe, one of [who I presume to be] the owners greets me.  I could hear the tentativeness in her voice, just a bit.  I ask her if the cafe had Wi-Fi.  “Yes, but you won’t be able to hear anything over the band,” and she gestures at the kids setting up stools and mics.

That’s okay. I don’t need to hear what … my typing? My computer’s chimes as it boots up?

“Thanks,” I tell her.  “I think I’ll be fine.”  I smile.  She smiles.  Our rocky start might smooth out.

I’m looking for a surrogate office, so my laptop and I will probably be back in the daytime.   The food is pretty good - I just polished off a turkey and mozzarella panini - plus, I like supporting local businesses.  (Of course, in a small town like Flemington - which is bigger than the town in which I actually live - isn’t every business basically a local business? Ha.)

We’ll see how things go and just take it one day at a time.  That’s all you can do, right?

Update: After I packed up my belongings, I headed to the counter to pay for my sandwich and drink.  Not seeing a credit card machine, I asked the owner if they accepted debit cards.  They didn’t - cash only.  I only had my debit card on me, but I had cash in my car.  I told the owner I would have to run to my car to get cash, and that’s exactly what I did.  When I came back a few minutes later, she looked surprised to see me: “Oh, you came back!”

“Of course I came back.  You didn’t think I was coming back?”

She seemed flustered.  “No, I thought you were coming back…”

Then why the surprise?  This was weird.

I handed her a $20, took my $10.50 in change, went back to my car, and drove home.