I attended a convention in Sturbridge Massachusetts last March. Even though I had to make the drive and attend the convention alone, I was looking forward to seeing other campground owners from the Northeast.
Judy, a good friend and campground owner from Cape May, assured me that I wouldn’t regret making the trip and she’d keep me company. Most of the luncheons and dinners are included in the registration for the event but there was one night that dinner was on your own. We met up with three other campgrounds from our state and decided to go to a well known restaurant called “the Public House”. We looked forward to swapping stories and knew we always laugh and enjoy the time we spend together.
We hurried into the public dining area where our table for eight was waiting. Our time was limited, because we had to return to the hotel for a “cracker barrel” discussion, so we put in our orders as soon as the waiter came to the table.
“Oh my God!” Judy exclaimed as she ducked her head behind the menu she still held in her hand. “I don’t know where to look!”
All but the gentleman sitting opposite her at our table were now following her line of sight to a woman seated at the table a few feet from us who was breast feeding her baby.
Although breast feeding is only natural, I must admit the public display was a little uncomfortable. I was born in an era when discretion and modesty was an inherent condition. Having had two children of my own, I know there are many ways to feed an infant discreetly when in public. This woman, however, was not interested in utilizing any of them. Judy, being older than myself, was of the Ozzie & Harriet generation and such things were not even discussed in mixed company, let alone demonstrated.
It became quite obvious that the intention of this mother was to attract as much attention as possible, and she was indeed successful in her endeavor. The fact that she used breast feeding to that end was nothing short of offensive. I remember wondering if she had chosen the “Public House” for the name alone. It was as though she purposely tried to expose as much of her body as possible, making no attempt at draping her chest but rather exposing herself from the top of her blouse down. She was sitting at a table against the window, which would have given her complete privacy had she chosen any of the three other seats at the table, angling herself away from the other diners. However, her choice was the chair that faced the entire restaurant full of diners. After an hour and a half went by, it was obvious the child was not the least bit interested, but she kept forcing his face toward her breast. How much could a child so small drink? Especially when she had been nursing him in the crowded lobby only minutes before? Seriously? Even a dairy cow would have emptied in less time.
As we glanced around the room, other customers sat with heads tilted, trying to obliterate her from even their peripheral fields of vision (not an easy feat due to the size of the room and placement of the tables). Discussion at our table deteriorated rapidly into bad puns and jokes as a result of our own discomfort which I’m sure contributed to our raucous behavior. The woman looked to be glaring directly at us and called the waiter to her table several times. However, we weren’t sure if she was lodging a complaint against our table or trying repeatedly to draw the young man’s attention to her bare breast.
Service was extremely slow, and we just wanted to get out of there. I usually drink my coffee black, but thought cream might help to cool it down and speed up our ability to depart. Already late for the cracker barrel session and feeling the tension around the room, when my coffee was poured I turned to Judy and inquired “Got Milk?” The laughter that ensued got the check to the table quicker than any of the dinner courses.
