Suddenly, an unrelated memory popped up in my mind while I was reading this story (imaginary or not, who knows: at least, it sounds plausible).

It happened to us two years ago in Newport, RI, during our stay in the States for NecronomiCon. It was my first visit to another Rhode Island city apart from Providence, and I loved every minute of it: the historic architecture, the opulent scenery, everything seemed to be wonderful.

Well, except one occasion: we caught quite a heavy rain while strolling around the centre, and our old umbrella finally broke, which was a bit unfortunate, but not too bad, given that the weather improved fairly quickly afterwards.

So, after looking at the old Methodist (?) churches and those interestingly shaped buildings (Puritan perhaps, but I’m not certain), we decided to pop into a lovely looking tourist shop with lots of cutsie souvenirs on display. I was gazing around—the marina posters! China with boats! The little trinket boxes with lighthouses! As a vain person, I was lost (in the most pleasant way possible). Until I wasn’t: suddenly my ear caught a conversation between L. and the lady at the till. L. had already bought a new umbrella (a very nice one; we still use it) and asked the lady to help him dispose of our broken one.

As you all know, L. is a Sweetheart and never in a million years would sound even remotely condescending or obnoxious. All he said was—and I quote—“can you, please, help me? As now I have a new umbrella, would you mind if I give you my old one and you throw it out in the bin?” (There was a bin behind the lady).

Oh dear me. Not only did she say “of course, not!” in the rudest way possible, she also pointed at the door and said with that unmistakable smirk on her face, “you can get rid of it anywhere” (mind you, we were trying to find a litter bin before we entered the shop, but there was none: that’s how we ended up carrying our broken umbrella in the first place).

I wish I could tell you that I had my moment of triumph and said something witty in response, but I didn’t. We both left in silence, being eyed up by an ironic lady in the shop and another couple who seemingly thought that we were two horrible human beings.

I know that it’s a non-story and I should forget about it yet it still bugs me: this unnecessarily acidic response seems to stay with me much longer than expected, and what frustrates me even more is that it somehow overshadows all the cool things we saw there. I should not have sucked it up, but good and sharp remarks come way too late, making you the winner in the eyes of your shampoo bottles who, of course, applaud you, but only them.