The Cornered Booth
The particular Subway I go to once a week has one thing that many others do not -- a blessing of space. One of the reasons I like this one so much is that there is an entire second floor dedicated to seating. What this gives the customer is room to sit down, breath and relax for an hour or so instead of rushing through your meal while those in line stand above you wondering what kind of sub you got and whether they should get one too.
I'll often head over there around 1:15pm to miss the lunch crowd, grab a corner booth and sit down with my lunch and a magazine (or book) and read for an hour before grabbing my "refill" and heading back to the office. It's a nice diversion from the day.
One day last week I followed all my usual rituals including snagging the corner booth. I'd say there were no more than three others up on the second floor -- most folks missing the sign pointing the way to the stairs in the back of the restaurant, instead opting for the seating on the first floor. Of those three, we were nicely spread out among the 16 or so tables and booths.
That is, until SHE walked in...
Yes, though there were many other tables and booths still open which afforded her the opportunity to maintain this nice friendly dining space, this woman opted to plop herself down at the table running perpendicular to the booth I was sitting in. Her new choice of seating being no more than 4 feet from me or so, she chose to sit down on the side facing me. So with me in the corner, she was staring right at the side of my head -- or so I felt. Obviously she wanted nothing to do with me or my lunch but none-the-less I felt her oh-way-too-close presence burning a hole in my side.
At this point I still had some lunch left so I soldiered on and read my magazine as if nothing was amiss.
That is, until HE walked in...
Sure enough, here comes a dude with his freshly made sub and he opts to sit in the booth in front of me. And (you know this is coming) he sits on the opposite side of HIS booth, so that now I've got TWO people facing me all within 4 feet of my previously tranquil corner. (It's a little like when I'm on the Metra going to work and of all the seats available in the empty train car, someone has to sit rightnext to me.)
Needless to say, that was the end of lunch. Being done with my sandwich, I simply got up and took off.
One of the amazing things about the human race is our diversity and uniqueness bound by our similar outward appearances.
No doubt I hail from a long line of nomadic tribesmen where you had to learn to survive on your own and be at peace with your aloneness in the world while my two new "dining companion's" lineage traces back to the caves of upper Mongolia where closeness meant warmth -- which ultimately meant their survival.
Or maybe their sense of personal space is just a bit off...
I'll often head over there around 1:15pm to miss the lunch crowd, grab a corner booth and sit down with my lunch and a magazine (or book) and read for an hour before grabbing my "refill" and heading back to the office. It's a nice diversion from the day.
One day last week I followed all my usual rituals including snagging the corner booth. I'd say there were no more than three others up on the second floor -- most folks missing the sign pointing the way to the stairs in the back of the restaurant, instead opting for the seating on the first floor. Of those three, we were nicely spread out among the 16 or so tables and booths.
That is, until SHE walked in...
Yes, though there were many other tables and booths still open which afforded her the opportunity to maintain this nice friendly dining space, this woman opted to plop herself down at the table running perpendicular to the booth I was sitting in. Her new choice of seating being no more than 4 feet from me or so, she chose to sit down on the side facing me. So with me in the corner, she was staring right at the side of my head -- or so I felt. Obviously she wanted nothing to do with me or my lunch but none-the-less I felt her oh-way-too-close presence burning a hole in my side.
At this point I still had some lunch left so I soldiered on and read my magazine as if nothing was amiss.
That is, until HE walked in...
Sure enough, here comes a dude with his freshly made sub and he opts to sit in the booth in front of me. And (you know this is coming) he sits on the opposite side of HIS booth, so that now I've got TWO people facing me all within 4 feet of my previously tranquil corner. (It's a little like when I'm on the Metra going to work and of all the seats available in the empty train car, someone has to sit rightnext to me.)
Needless to say, that was the end of lunch. Being done with my sandwich, I simply got up and took off.
One of the amazing things about the human race is our diversity and uniqueness bound by our similar outward appearances.
No doubt I hail from a long line of nomadic tribesmen where you had to learn to survive on your own and be at peace with your aloneness in the world while my two new "dining companion's" lineage traces back to the caves of upper Mongolia where closeness meant warmth -- which ultimately meant their survival.
Or maybe their sense of personal space is just a bit off...
1 Comments:
Random flatulence is a good space clearer--particularly when accompanied by the studied perusal of "What Your Doctor Should Tell You About Ringworm" pamphlets.
By
Michael Guy, at 3:25 PM
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