Dinner at the Carlton

So you may remember how when I wrote about the garden party I randomly went to last Friday, I mentioned that some of the men I was in conversation with mentioned that we should all have dinner at the Carlton the following Thursday. I never expected that anything would become of it all, that the whole thing was just a lot of alcohol-fueled rambling, so I was incredibly shocked when I got an e-mail on Wednesday night informing me that dinner was on for 8 PM.

I frantically managed to finish up work at 6:30 PM (how is it that I have more work now that I don't have a job than I did when I DID?), raced home, dropped off my stuff and changed, and then finally raced back out to present myself at the club precisely at 8 PM.

I went up to the main drawing room, where I found the others in our party sitting by the fire. For ease of reference, I shall outline the cast of characters for you:

- Young British Guy. This was our unofficial host for the evening. Only 20 years old, but you'd think he was waaaaaay older. He'd recently returned from a trip to the US where he'd stayed with an American friend and his girlfriend, and was now returning the favour by showing his friends the most quintessential British experience he could come up with.

- The American Friend. The one who this entire dinner was for.

- The American Friend's Girlfriend. The tagalong.

- The Overweight Yet Hysterical British Guy. Our official host for the evening, as our 20-year old friend did not yet have the official right to book a table at the Carlton Club quite yet. The Carlton isn't quite White's or Boodles, but it's still pretty up there in the pecking order of clubs.

- The Older-Looking Guy. Never quite caught how he fit in, but he's a member of the RAC and will be at the Inter-Club Ceildih that I'm going to next Friday, so I'll see him there.

- The Older-Looking Guy's Girlfriend - She arrived later in the evening, so I didn't really get a chance to speak with her much, but apparently she'll be at the Ceildih next Friday, so I guess I'll get to know her then.

- The Young English Girl. Lovely girl, and a friend of the 20-year old guy.

- The Model. A striking young woman who is a member of the Landsdowne, provided our cultural component of the evening by being someone who works in "the arts". Quite clever and interesting really, I hope I run into her again as she seemed quite nice.

So once our party was assembled, we headed into dinner. Now everyone else automatically arranged themselves in a "boy-girl-boy-girl" fashion around the table, but the American girl just plopped herself down next to me. I subtly mentioned that she might want to follow the traditional pattern, but she seemed to have no idea what I was talking about.

When I clarified, she switched places with her boyfriend to restore the balance, but in retrospect, I almost wished she hadn't. Her boyfriend turned out to be a RAGING Republican, and not in a "David Brooks" or "fiscal conservative" kind of way, but in a "I'm Sarah Palin's biggest fan" kind of way. I basically spent the entire evening with my jaw on the table at some of the comments coming out of his mouth.

And please let me clarify: Jon Stewart of the Daily Show is one of my all-time heroes, and one of the things I like most about him, is how he can engage conservatives in real, reasoned, intellectual debates. His debate with Mike Huckabee on abortion still remains, to me, an example of people with differing opinions coming to the table and agreeing to disagree. After all, after reading Bill Bishop's "The Big Sort", I really don't want to be one of those people who only talks to people who agree with me. I know some wonderful people who happen to be Republicans (Shelley comes to mind), and it saddens me that we can't seem to have a debate on politics without tensions running high.

So upon realising that I was sitting next to a Republican, I swear I came into this as an opportunity to understand "how the other side thinks." But c'mon buddy, at least give me SOMETHING to start with! Announcing that Obama is a Nazi, that universal healthcare will lead to the death of us all, and that Sarah Palin would make an excellent president...I just didn't even know where to start. So I mostly spent the evening just making non-committal murmurs, waiting to see what outrageous statement would next come out of his mouth.

The Americans didn't stop there however. When dinner came out, as soon as their plates were in front of them, they started eating. Now, first of all, who starts eating before everyone else in their party is served? As well, in traditional British silver service, the vegetables are served separately from your main dish, so everyone else waited patiently for the serving staff to come around and serve the vegetables, while the poor serving staff seemed unsure of how to serve vegetables to the Americans already voraciously attacking their plates!

As well, the Americans didn't seem to understand the idea that there's a certain group of young internationals in London who all "just know each other", by belonging to the same clubs, going to the same parties, and just generally running into each other again and again until they just figure they might as well be friends. They were giving us all the third degree on how we knew each other, seeming absolutely mystified by the fact that we just waved it off with the simple answer of "through our clubs", desperately digging for specifics. I think the whole thing was just completely outside their frame of reference.

Finally after dinner we retired back to the drawing room, where I found myself seated next to the Overweight Yet Hysterical British Guy. I immediately regretted not seating myself next to him throughout dinner, as straight away we were having an intense discussion about our art preferences and why (for me, Impressionism, for him, Pre-Raphaelite). Talked about the opera and how we'd first fallen in love with it, our opinions of ballet and other arts, and how much we thought art should be left to one's own interpretation or explained for deeper understanding. And once again, this guy is tipping the scales at nearly 250-300 lbs, but why is it that I can imagine sleeping with him more readily than so many men I know? It's totally weird how attraction works.

At last, the others left, leaving just me, the Overweight Yet Hysterical British Guy, and The Model. That's where I got into a conversation with The Model, and finally walked with her back to the Tube, finding her company to be absolutely fascinating and charming. We shall have to see if we run into each other again anytime soon, but overall, a really interesting evening!