Lessons in eating out

David Mitchell has some enlightened views on public mastication. And how eating out is as intimate as it is an odd ritual for strangers to share. Before yesterday I used to enjoy going out for a hot meal and a hearty side of people watching. Thinking about how any random him or her is having a unique dining experience to me. And how, no matter our differences, we chose to dine at the same restaurant at the same time. I used to think that was pretty cool. Unifying. Until yesterday. My roommate and I decided to to go Olive Garden. America's sh*tty Italian guilty pleasure.  After ordering, I see this woman beyond our table hold up a new New Balance sneaker and gesture with it to the man in front of her. My first thought was, "Oh people and their ways!" and forgot about her. Then I start eating and I see her take all the breadsticks and individually wipe all the parmesan cheese and oil from it. I gave her a look like, "You're ruining it!" but then figured that if that guy couldn't stand up to his bread being ruined, maybe he DESERVED his bread to be ruined, and I left it.

But as I'm eating my food I see her take the breadsticks, break them in half, then split them down the middle with her index finger. I was transfixed. What on earth was she doing?! I was repulsed but I couldnt look away! Then she took her spaghetti and meatballs and fork-stuffed them into the breadsticks! It was all I could do not to scream or be sick right there at the table. I could tell this hadn't been the first time she'd done this. Her movements were as beautiful as they were disgusting. I actively tried for the rest of my meal to not look in her direction. I went on enjoying my meal when finally I see her signal the waiter. He returns with a carry out box. The woman then starts lining up her narrow sandwiches end to end, about 10 of them, before closing it, paying their check and leaving. It may not seem as bad as words you're reading, but it was one of the weirdest dining displays I'd ever witnessed. That coupled with her crossed eyes and ski vest made me wonder if maybe I was being taught some kind of lesson about paying more attention to my surroundings or perhaps to become blissfully unattached to those around me. But the more I think about it, I think it was more a sign to never dine at Olive Garden again. Or at the very least, to perfect my audible sigh.