Restaurants are hilarious.

A few anecdotes from dining in Boston and observing what was going on around me.

City Table

A Bostonian, a Brit, and a Scot were having dinner.

That’s not a joke, it’s a scenario that was happening at the table next to me I just really need you imagine.

The food arrives-

Brit- I thought I was hungry, but I forgot that American appetizers are entree-sized.

Boston- Nah, these are like tapas-sized.

We were sandwiched in between that table of the three amigos with accents and a giant party of ten clearly there on a business trip. Both table were populated with doctors. Apparently the City Table in the Lenox hotel is the hospital management go-to spot?

What amused me was how the three gentlemen to my left were all immaculately dressed, with relatively quiet, respectful demeanors, and the large table was a modge-podge of dress and loudness, ranging from Tucked-in-Red-Polo-with-Cell-Phone-Holster-on-Belt Guy to Clearly-Uncomfortable-in-his-Too-Tight-Suit Dude to Red-Shirt-Black-Skirt-and-Fake-Pearls-with-Patterned-Shoes-Lady-You’re-Trying-Too-Hard. The British guy was clearly trying the entire dinner not to notice how the large group kept getting drunker and louder. He looked super uncomfortable. Bless his heart.


Mater and I went to the cutest little Italian place on Saturday night called Saraceno that was absolutely amazing and had nothing on the menu over 25 bucks. We were sandwiched between a really loud and obnoxious table full of grad students  and a table of older locals having an honest-to-goodness “Kids these days” conversation. I actually heard someone use that exact phrase after a lengthy monologue about how he never sees kids on his street playing outside that somehow segued into a discussion of his wife’s cousin’s grand-daughter’s no-good boyfriend.

Meanwhile, Mom was watching the table on our opposite side having the World’s Most Uncomfortable Double Date. The guy sitting directly to my left (and seriously these table were so close together I could have brushed his left shoulder off without straining) was so loud and obnoxious it was making the whole restaurant annoyed. He was there with his girlfriend and his friend and another girl who Mom and I figured was a blind date of some sorts. At one point this dude (let’s call him Earl) spilled something on his arm and licked at it like a cat for a solid minute. His friend actually had to intervene. Earl took great (drunk) pleasure in regaling the room with topics such as Racism in America and Why it’s a Terrible Conversation Subject, That One Time He Played Basketball, and Hey Man, Let’s split the che- Oh, You Got It? Cool. Thanks Bro. 

Mom and I consoled ourselves with this:

I don't know what that big white thing is to the side. I'm a blogger, not a photographer. Don't worry about it. Look at the cioppino. Cioppinoooooo.

I don’t know what that big white thing is to the side. I’m a blogger, not a photographer. Don’t worry about it. Look at the cioppino. Cioppinoooooo.

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