We went to the Snow Goose, which is a former Elks lodge, where my sister's reunion was held. We entered the lobby and headed for the large room where there was a group of happy people wearing name tags. There was a waitress serving drinks and music in the air. As we approached the table by the door the woman handing out the name tags said, "Are you East?"
We smiled, "Yes,"
"This is West," she said, "East is upstairs,"
We went upstairs and found the room, or cell, really where the East reunion was being held. We'd arrived fashionably late, we thought, but it turned out that this was a sit down meal and they'd crammed three tables into a small closet with no room for latecomers. We would either be placed at the end of some random table or be the only people standing in a room stuffed full with the handful of people that had come. My sister asked me if I was ready to go, and I thought she meant that she'd seen her friends and didn't need me anymore, but no, she didn't want to be there any more either, so we slithered out and came home. What hurt the most wasn't that West's reunion looked so much cooler than East's but that the West people could so easily identify that we didn't belong.