Do you remember me, or shall I walk by another three times?

One thing I love about living in a large city is the feeling of anonymity that it imparts. The simple fact that very few people know me is comforting, not unlike a warm blanket. My business is mine. I like to be able to go about my daily routine without having to worry about running into a childhood best friend that now hates me because I snagged female lead in the school play 11 years ago, or my ex-boyfriends' parents that are glad we broke up because they didn't like my style of dress. Frankly, I don't care to make small talk with those people, yet somehow we feel an obligation to acknowledge familiar faces whether we're in the mood or not. We feel like we're "bad people" if we don't at least say hello. That's one social norm I could do without.

Last weekend, I flew to Sun Valley, Idaho with two friends. One of them grew up there and we went to visit her mother and enjoy a relaxing weekend. Mom showed us around town and we went out to eat a few times; it seems every time we left the house someone would approach her and a short chat would ensue. I remember thinking repeatedly how I couldn't imagine living in such a small town and that I was glad I knew only those few in my weekend posse.

On the whole, I am comfortable with being anonymous. I'm not as keen on the thought that I make little to no impression on those whom I encounter, however. Part of this "impressionlessness" can be blamed on the lifestyle I've cultivated, but it would be nice to know that I leave something of a mark where I've been. Some people have an air about them - a quality - something that ensures you'll remember them after they've gone. I'm guessing I do not possess that...

See, I'm not the type of woman that turns heads, which is more of a blessing than a curse. I would however, like to make enough impact on people standing right in front of me that they remember me five seconds later. Is that too much to ask? Take for example, my food service experiences in Sun Valley. I ate out a total of four times in two days. In three out of four instances, my order was either wrong, or items were omitted completely. However, in each instance I was with one to three other people, and not one of them had any problems the entire weekend.

The first time, I shrugged it off. These things happen, right? Second time, I laughed. The third time I started to develop a complex.

Was I that dispensable? They can't even remember to bring my order because I'm so insignificant a presence that I might just be invisible? I know I have a terrible habit of avoiding eye contact and seeing one's eyes are what give them identity...but come on!?! I just wanted to say to one waitress in particular, "Hey, I know I'm a relatively plain, unanimated personality sitting here in seat two, but I still need to eat and if it's not too much trouble I would like the friggin' salad I ordered. And before you ask for the fourth time, I want RANCH DRESSING."

Maybe the increase in elevation was messing with my emotions and I was a bordering on hypersensitive, but all this seemed a bit more than coincidence to me.