If the fly on the wall had a laptop

Weirdo, table of one

If you’ve ever been in a restaurant and seen someone sitting alone and wondered if they were a weirdo, this column may confirm your suspicions. It may also encourage you to try it for yourself.

When I first got out of college, I got a job in Rochester and ended up staying for 10 years. A lot happened in that decade and I have a lot of fond memories. So when a recent errand took me back, I decided to stay awhile and take myself to lunch. I chose one of my old favorites along the Erie Canal. 

Smack in the middle of the lunch rush, the hostess shepherded me past the crowd to a free table. As she did, I thought back to the person I was over 20-something years ago. She could not have imagined eating alone, especially with all those people. She was too shy and too self-conscious. She would have gotten take-out.

I’ll admit, it can be a bit daunting to sit at a table for one, but those feelings start to wear off once you settle in and realize, as my mother spent years trying to convince me as a teenager, “no one is looking at you.”

Once the business of placing my order was complete, I sat back and took in the beautiful sunny day, watching the world go by. When my attention drifted back in to the restaurant, I was struck by how happy everyone was — each table filled with lively chatter and then I started to notice the laughs. 

From the way they sounded to the way people’s eyes crinkled when their faces lit up, every laugh had its own unique characteristics but they were all hearty and genuine.

Little by little, the restaurant started to clear out and the noise started to die down.

“Please don’t get a dog.”

The words suddenly sucked me into a conversation nearby, I heard the four-top start to giggle and the unmistakable sound of someone trying to plead their case. 

Then, “how long had she been ill?”

This question came from the woman at the table for two next to me. I had initally assumed she and the older gentleman she was sitting with were a couple, but then I realized they were just getting to know each other. Each had lost a spouse. They fell into a sweet conversation about being ready to move on. Not so ready? Their adult children. They both talked about the challenges of trying to be the people their kids have always expected them to be while still wanting to live lives of their own while they can.

Just then, my plate arrived, snapping me back to my own thoughts and I flushed, feeling guilty for eavesdropping. I realized I could tune in to the different tables like radio stations. I tuned out and looked back out the window. The voices faded into the background and I tucked into my wrap.

“Anyway, she fell face first on the floor of the casino!”

I had just taken a bite when a new duo arrived for lunch, the conversation already in progress and impossible not to hear.

A woman with a commanding voice went on, “six or seven stiches! Didn’t break anything! Thank God!”

Exasperated, the woman continued. She explained that despite these injuries, her 77-year-old mother (“78 in July”) was determined to go back to work helping take care of people with dementia.

Back at the table for two, the man was talking about the summer place he bought in the Thousand Islands.

“Cape Vincent. Have you ever been there?” He asked.

The woman said no and as he started to tell her more about it, I got lost in my own thoughts of the vacation I had taken there in my 20s.

My server returned, inquiring about dessert. I asked, conspiratorially, if they still had the carrot cake.

“Of course,” she said.

Polishing off the last of the cream cheese frosting, I continued to watch people come and go and then the check arrived at the table for two. Without hesitation, the man extended his clasped hands and slid the bill protectively under his arms in one motion.

“Thank you for lunch,” the woman said and they just kept talking.

They were still talking when I left. 

Walking out into the sunshine, I decided to take a stroll along the canal and I recalled that quote about being kind because everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. 

I knew more about the collection of strangers in the restaurant than I probably should have but what will stay with me is the feeling I had being in the presence of people largely at peace and experiencing simple moments of joy. 

It was lovely and I realized when you take even small steps into the world, you never feel alone.

This essay originally appeared in my column in the April 4, 2024 edition of the Perry Herald in Perry, NY under the title “Table for One.”