The only place I have ever been considered a "regular" is my hairdresser's. In fact, she once said that, due to my sometimes extravagant desires, she had been looking forward to me coming since thursday; my appointment was the following monday. I felt special, so it was no surprise to me to see Manny (Bill Bailey) in Black Books ask for "the usual". When his friends ask him what his usual was, he said he didn't know but he'd always wanted to have "a usual". And why not? You feel recognised, you feel at home, a part of an extended family.
This fantasy only became reality to me recently. Come tuesday evening, I get an increasing feeling of excitement in my tummy, as I prepare to go out to a bar nearby. "Bed" is just a few blocks away, it offers good music, cheap drinks, awesome staff but the atmosphere is what makes you come back, a few people have agreed with me. Since I've moved to the Netherlands, this is the place (except for the supermarket) which I have gone to the most, to the point where there's a running joke in my class about my tuesday night escapades in "Bed".
It makes me smile that I no longer need to tell the bartender what I want, he knows. Many times I've received one "on the house", and sometimes I return the gesture too. The DJ will sometimes waves, and recently there was a sticky situation with two older persistent gentlemen, who the bouncers helped us out with, knowing we were regulars.
There is something to be said about communities. Maybe it is strange that one can find a sense of belonging after only 2 months, when 4 years in the UK didn't give me the same feeling. Maybe it's even strange that I should feel like I belong, when I am a foreigner, and in a country which is known for its liberalism (which is often equated with the decline of community). But one thing is certain- until "Bed" makes me feel so warm and fuzzy, I will keep going there, asking for the usual, speaking to the people I saw there last tuesday (more and more of them I am becoming friends with) and enjoying the hell out of it.
