The First *Overwhelming* Experience...

That's right.  

I have returned to my goodly home in the states and have already felt the pangs of culture shock down my spinal column.  And of all the places: Moe's.

While Moe's Knows Burritos, Moe's does Not know how to keep a man who's spent the last four months in Europe as comfortable as he'd like.  Here's the deal:  I came back to the states the day before yesterseve and had a glorious reunion with my family, complete with Mexican food from Habeñeros, which I've been craving all this time (prior to that, I scarfed an o-so-tasty milkshake from Chick-fil-a, which I had not craved, but should have).  So far, all was good.  I was still resetting my circadian rhythm and getting used to the fact that I had four wheels I could put to use whenever and wherever, but other than that I was melding back into American culture like horse carrying a bucket with two stones and a bird.

Until.  

I showed up at Latimer House yesterday (not to be confused with Vladimir House) and Benji and I decided to head to Moe's for lunching and munching.  And lunch and munch we did, though I was, as they say, in fear and trembling.  Why?  I will attempt to explain.

When we walked in, I became aware of three things:

1. everyone there was caucasian, except for the one guy who was about to cook Ben's Phil E. ("the only decent thing on the menu," Jenkins informed me)

2. everyone said things like "y'all" and "corn-fritter"

the third revelation was the worst, though...

3.  I suddenly became aware that here, in the heart of Mountain Brook amongst fellow Moe's eaters, I could, at any moment run into any number of people who knew me.

This does not sound like something that should terrify a reasonable child past the age of 4.  However, you must understand.  Being in Europe with twelve other students for four months conditions you to know, on any given moment, where the other twelve are.  So when you go into a cafe with three of them, you know you'll never meet anyone else in that cafe again probably for the rest of your life.  Before long, this sense of invisibility becomes natural, and you never have to walk into a restaurant and look around to see if Jimbo-from-Middle-school had the idea to chaw a corndog at the same time you did.

At Moe's in Birmingham, Alabama, though, this whole unobtrusive stunt is foiled altogether.  Not only could Jimbo be sitting in the corner, some guy who knew you 12 years ago could pop outta nowhere and ask you why you haven't cut your hair in the past month and a half.  So you know, this proposition is enough to make a person with the same personality as Machiavelli cower in the shadows.  

So as soon as I ordered my Joey Bag of Donuts, that's exactly what I did.