Party Of One

There's something about going to a restaurant alone thats really cool. It's basically a date with yourself, minus all the awkward asking out, the troublesome planning, the awkward "hello," the painful silence, the awkward silence... I'm beginning to sense a pattern. Sitting in a restaurant alone, your senses sharpen. Just you, your waiter, your food, and your thoughts. Occasionally, something happens around you that makes you look up, but generally it turns out to be nothing; back to your food.

Restaurants have always fascinated me. As avid readers of my blog may know, a lot of things fascinate me: buses, trains, planes, any method of transportation really, taser guns, stupid people, Hannah Montana, stupid people willing to do anything to see Hannah Montana, Starbucks barista girls, girls, people in general, fads, fashion, the entertainment industry, how Good Luck Chuck became a movie, why anyone thinks Dane Cook is funny, did I say Hannah Montana? The lists goes on and on. The notion of being able to look at a piece of folded cardboard or a white board with "Specials" in dry-erase marker, point to a number, and then have it appear in front of you in five minutes to an hour (I'm looking at you Johnny Farinas on Elgin) is mind-boggling. In addition, everyone sitting around you each has their own story and conversation and are generally cheerful thanks to the (hopefully) great food and drinks off of that folded piece of cardboard.

Everyone sitting down at a restaurant is equal; we are all at the mercy of the people preparing and serving our food. Therefore, everyone has to be at their best behavior. Of course, sometimes, you're in a group and the conversations turn loud, fast, and loose but generally, you have to be good to your hosts, otherwise you might end up with some unexpected additions to your plate.

No one likes an unexpected surprise.