I know it sounds irrational, but I hate to eat alone. When I work in San Francisco and don’t have someone to eat with, I’ll grab take-out and bring it back to my desk. If Tim is gone, I typically pick up something at our local market for dinner. Ever so rare is the moment you’ll see me sitting alone at a restaurant.
That all changed recently while I was on a business trip to Manhattan. Normally, I’d hole up and order room service, but I wasn’t prepared for my hotel room being less than 175 square feet and the sudden claustrophobia that came along with that. I HAD to get out. Stinking up my tiny space with food was completely out of the question.
Luckily Sunday night was a gorgeous one in the city. At 6:30 PM it was still warm outside and the energy woke me right out of my jet-lagged stupor. I began walking up 8th Avenue and exploring the Upper West Side. There was so much to see in my neighborhood – Central Park, the Lincoln Center, Carnegie Hall. Every corner brought a new landmark or something to see. I walked over 20 blocks taking it all in. I would have kept going but I started getting hungry.
As it was Sunday evening, families were out together dining. I kept hoping to walk by the perfect little diner where I could just sit at the counter alone. I couldn’t find any place that fit my comfort level criteria, and I was determined not to eat fast food. Running out of daylight and energy, I made a choice and headed back to the hotel.
With great resolve, I marched straight to the hostess at the very swanky Hudson Cafeteria restaurant. Mustering all the confidence I could, I declared, “One for dinner please…outside.”
I felt like all eyes were on me as I walked onto the brick patio. I stood tall and pretended I was the confident type of woman who thinks nothing of dining alone.
I was never happier than when my cell phone rang ten minutes into dinner. Typically, I’d never answer the phone while seated at a restaurant but I had an insatiable urge to prove I wasn’t always a loner to the diners around me. Immediately I start whining to my friend on the line about what a loser I am for dining alone.
Unbeknownst to me, two men sitting at the table next to me, Patrick and Richard, overheard my cries. As soon as I hung up my phone, I realized they were looking at me. Sheepishly, I begin to apologize for taking a call at a restaurant, but as I do this, they push their table towards mine.
“You don’t need to eat alone,” Patrick says with a smile.
The next three hours flew by. They were already on their entrees, but they ordered dessert and wine, and we talked. I took them up to the exclusive Hudson Skybar (only hotel guests have access in) and we sat out on the patio in plush seats talking about the random things you discuss with strangers. They were both on business travel from Southern California. We shared stories about favorite places in Manhattan, air travel horror stories, work, Giants vs. Dodgers.
And then as suddenly as I met these two guys, we were saying goodnight. We didn’t exchange business cards or phone numbers. I had a great night with them both, and I’ll never see them again.
Before we said goodbye...Me, Richard and Patrick hanging out at the Skybar.
The next night I sat at the counter at the same restaurant. I felt much more encouraged after the previous night’s experience, but on this night I found myself sitting between an antisocial Middle Eastern man, and a couple who made out pretty much any moment they weren’t eating their meal. Luckily, Mr. Antisocial exited quickly and was replaced by a bohemian British woman named Rebecca. She looked as uncomfortable as me sitting at the counter, so I passed her a sympathetic grin. The next thing you know, we’re two chatterboxes who look not unlike two longtime friends who are out for a meal together. We learn we’re both in New York to attend the same tradeshow, that we work in the same industry, and share a love of shoe shopping. Two glasses of wine later and we’re sharing a dessert and acting like long lost friends.
I’ll never see her again either.
My final night in New York started with me going out for beers with two of my coworkers Marc and Rob. They both had to get home, which left me once again, alone for dinner. This time, I didn’t have the energy to find a restaurant or go back to the same place again, and had resigned to ordering room service in my pin box of a room. Defeated, I walked into the elevator to head to my room. Being polite, I smile at an older gentleman as we head up to our rooms. We begin to make small talk, and the next thing I know, we are making plans to meet down in the lobby to go grab dinner together.
Ten minutes later I meet Bob in the lobby. We decided to walk down the street to eat at a restaurant down near Columbus Circle. Bob is a 64-year-old widower from Dallas, with three kids that are close to age to me. (Yes, he has children that are in their 20’s…) Bob tells me how he lost his wife to cervical cancer seven years ago, and how much he misses her. I talk to him about wanting a family one day, but I’m settling for two cats and a crazy career right now. He’s a nice guy and the time flies by quickly with small talk and pleasantries. We say goodnight, and although we exchanged business cards, he hasn’t contacted me or vice versa.
Three days, three random strangers. They came into my life for some reason and left just as quickly. I may never see them again but I won’t soon forget them either. I hope they don’t forget me either.
