London II

It was during this time, through this six months in London, that I began slipping out of the fog of my identity crisis and started learning things about myself. I learned that I was passionate about some things…like music…I started going to see shows and I bought a guitar…and books…I spent entire days reading Jane Austin novels and Charles Dickens and Sherlock Holmes…anything British to enhance my cultural experience… tea, going to movies alone, journaling, great views. I learned there are things that I don’t enjoy…most museums, Guiness beer, Tube strikes, people who don’t tip and possibly worse… people who tip only a few cents (or pence), personal space infringement, people who smack.
I waited tables for the first time. I was never allowed to work while I was in school, so my only job experience thus far was summer camp counseling and life guarding. I had images of myself waiting tables, being busy and tired and funny and earning every penny I got. This was mostly my experience but in my vision I was never bad at it. Real life proved different. Being the only Tex-Mex restaurant in London, people loved to order Corona beer to get the authentic Mexican flavor of the place. While not a bad choice of beers, we always served it with a slice of lime stuffed in the top. When the lime is squeezed through the neck of the bottle it mixes with the flavor of the beer and creates a unique Mexican taste. That wasn’t my problem with Coronas. My problem was that the bottles were so tall and the limes were so heavy. I spilled these Coronas on so many people during my days of waiting tables that I would tear up when anyone ordered one. “Let me get this right, you want five..sniffle...Coronas?” Negro Modello is also a Mexican beer that we stuffed lime slices in, but they are pyramid shaped, as if the friendly bottler knew the bane of my waitressing existence.
It was also my first time to interact daily with pagans. And what I mean when I say pagans is people who live their lives with no regard to God. In the Bible Belt there were plenty of people who lived what we would call “lives of sin,” but they did it either in rebellion against a God they knew or apathy to Him. These people might never have had any sort of encounter with Christ. What surprised me most about these people is that I really liked them. My three favorite people I worked with were a girl named Bronwyn from South Africa, Grant from New Zealand, and Maggie from Devonshire. Bronwyn was a gorgeous blonde with a hoarse voice that would sweep into a room and kiss everyone dangerously close to their mouths. I had to pep talk myself into having the maturity to handle her kissing me and not running out the back door. She loved everyone and made you feel like you were one of her best friends while you were around her, then she would just jet and be off somewhere else. I wonder if she ever let anyone close to her. Grant and Maggie lived together. Grant was in his late 30’s and gay. His Kiwi accent was entrancing and once we became closer friends he too would greet me with a kiss. Sometimes right on the mouth. One night we were working very close to Christmas and we annoyed the rest of the staff by obnoxiously singing carols opera style. He was so snobby, but he liked me so it didn’t bother me. Maggie was an aspiring actress and she looked like Catherine Zeta Jones. She was in charge of training me at the beginning and did not seem in the least like she was a fan of the job. She made it clear that I was a pain in the neck and would never be able to handle the really busy tables. Not by anything she said, but by saying nothing at all, and giving me these cold expressions when she chose to admit that I existed.
Some days I would work for thirteen hours straight and forget to eat anything at all. Many nights we wouldn’t finish until 2am. Some of the staff would stick around and have a few drinks together. I didn’t. First of all, why would I want to stay at work when I am not being paid? Second, I was so used to being the one to set the example, abstaining was almost a habit for me. Do you want to stick around for a drink? Just say no…always. One night I was so tired I couldn’t even think about walking back to my flat so I agreed to one beer. At this point in my life I had only allowed myself to drink when someone who could hold me accountable was around. I had to cover all my bases…God forbid I actually do something wrong or make a mistake. I sat in a booth with Grant and Maggie while the two Irish bartenders served us Tecate and called me funny pet names like cupcake. We laughed and talked way too loud and Maggie’s stony exterior melted as she interacted with Grant and slowly warmed up to me. I began staying after work more often and grew to really adore these people.
This was a turning point for me. To have friends outside the Christian bubble I created for myself. I’ve had times where I’ve looked back on those nights drinking beer with those friends and wondered if I should have made a more concerted effort at introducing them to Christ. But that’s the thing…I had spent my entire life making everything a project and everyone an assignment. How do you love people when they are objects…or objectives? It always bothered me in Sunday school when they asked me to think of someone I knew who wasn’t a believer in Christ and I couldn’t think of one. Its like I’ve been on a quest to find people who are missing that element in their lives and make them better. And when they don’t care or don’t accept it I feel like I need to change my technique or I didn’t do a good enough job. What if it’s not my job? What if I’m missing out on loving people because I’m trying to fix them? Is there a chance that Christ is more present when I am being myself and loving deeply than when I am strategizing my next play to win over their soul? Just a thought for the void.