After looking through a list, she directed me to the usher, who escorted me out of the front seats. I was seated near the back at Table 19. It was close enough to see the family table, yet far enough to make the point. The overflow section was where I was.
I saw aunts, uncles, and other family members I hadn’t seen in a while. They all gave it the curious, apprehensive glance that people reserve for someone who has strayed too far from the plan.
“Look at you, my heavens,” Aunt Clare said, squinting over her spectacles. “Danny? Is that you?” You seem ready to invade a country.
The table erupted in a wave of nervous laughter.
After taking a seat, I said, “It’s nice to see you, Aunt Clare.”
The conversation at Table 19 was polite yet succinct. They talked on Lauren’s gorgeous appearance in the photos, the weather, and the beauty of the setting. No one asked what I did for a living. No one asked me what I was doing or where I was. The outfit appeared to make me invisible rather than noticeable.
When I informed the woman across from me that I had just returned from a strategic summit in the Pacific, she laughed a little. She was the wife of a distant relative.
It’s exhausting just to travel to Florida for Disney World, she said with a theatrical shudder, “Oh, I could never do all that traveling.” How you deal with jet lag is beyond me.
The others laughed and nodded in agreement. The inconvenience of airport delays reduced my authority and career. Everyone in the room, with the exception of me, was laughing as I slowly drank my water.
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