Three Butter Triangles

I once wrote in this blog about how I believe everyone, at one point or another, is "the asshole." Nice, genuine people get disgruntled, peeved, and act "out of character;" Conversely, more mean-spirited, arrogant people show us their lighter, more compassionate sides once in awhile. In my opinion, a person is neither completely "saintly" nor completely demonic (It's a stretch, but even Hitler loved his dog, his niece, and Eva Braun-right?)

This weekend in Jamaica, Vermont - quite an oxymoron, don't you think? - I played the role of "asshole."

It was a long weekend away; a retreat from New York City noise into the tranquility and crisp mountain air of central Vermont. My cousin was in a ski competition - US Freestyle Nationals - at nearby Stratton Mountain. On Friday afternoon, I arrived to the "Three Mountain Inn" to obtain my room key.

Upon requesting the key from the Inn Keeper, he abruptly said, "Only two per room; you can't be in a room with three people." "Okay, but my uncle told me I was rooming with George and Max-" "No, that's not possible," he said, cutting me off. "You're going to have to stay somewhere else." Bewildered, I asked to speak with my Uncle, who had reserved the room. "I can't let you leave." Although his voice was monotone and facial expressions unexaggerated for the latter comment, the overall exchange created a very tense, uncomfortable vibe and thus made it sound more menacing than I'm sure he intended. All of a sudden, Don Henley echoed in my head, "You can check out anytime you like...but you can never leave..."

As I moved toward the exit and opened it, he put his hand on the door and physically prevented me from leaving. He said he would call my Uncle over to the lodge, but I was not permitted to go see him myself.

The principles of Dale Carnegie (of "How to Win Friends & Influence People" fame), tell us never to criticize, condemn, or belittle another because, in turn, it will only make that person more defensive and/or determined to prove us wrong. As my emotions took over, thoughts of Dale evaporated. I subsequently accused him of not being able to read people well, lacking good customer service and "people" relations, and made a comment about how I deal with people who are jerks all the time in New York, but in Vermont, where people are supposed to be "nice," this was unexpected.

The dust settled. I got a room. We all ate dinner at the Inn that night; I came face-to-face with Mr. Inn Keeper multiple times as he refilled my wine, or served my food. It was like a "Seinfeld" episode, and I was charmingly awkward George.

After reflecting on the experience the following day and talking with my uncle about it, I felt bad; feeling like the "asshole" in that situation. Although his initial demeanor when I walked in could have been different, I didn't care; I knew I was also at fault. He owns the Inn; he has rules (however unorthodox I think they might be) and I shouldn't have been so sarcastic, or vocal about my disapproval of his management style.

It all came into better perspective the following morning at breakfast. The wait staff serves three triangular butter squares with muffins, to symbolize the "The Mountain" Inn. Staring at these butter squares-and finally, after at least three meals, "getting it"-I was reminded of life's simple, yet intricate beauty; and the subtle, yet creative reminders of the world around us and the people, places, and things that, woven together, form our reality and ultimately enhance our experiences.

(I know; such deep emotions and truths evoked from just three small pieces of butter) :D

I also thought in terms of Jam-the philosophy that I've adopted as my creed. Jam was inoperative in this situation; its implications unable to be accessed and applied because my emotions took control and I neglected to see the "oneness" and common bond the Inn Keeper and I shared as members of the human race. Thus, I lashed out.

So, my petty argument only served to make for uncomfortable tension; a situation I later attempted to reverse by apologizing. He accepted.

I will be back at the Three Mountain Inn next year for US Nationals ski competition. I'm sure I'll see him again. At least now I know the maximum room capacity :) If, God forbid, I play the role of "asshole" again, that's one less issue from which the argument can stem.