Amanda and I actually got engaged at a communal table in New York (Merkato 55 in the meatpacking district). Although the night ended well, the communal table was not a particularly positive experience that night. We were seated at the end of a table of people who were all at a party together. So it was 20 friends and then us squeezed onto the end of the table, yelling over the buzz and flutter of the party. Amanda was thinking about whether or not to stay at her job (she ultimately decided to leave) and I was thinking about how the hell I was going to propose without the ring. (It was our fifth anniversary.) Perhaps you have heard the story before, so I won't go into too many details, other than to conclude that she did, in fact, accept.
As the last stop on his Portland restaurant tour, last night Ryan took us to Toro Bravo for tapas. We waited at the bar upstairs for a table, and in the meantime we had fancy, complicated drinks with names I can't begin to remember. We were eventually seated at the front table in the restaurant downstairs. It was a communal table that accommodated 8 people comfortably and 10 including the heads. We were four (me, Amanda, Ryan and his dad Raymond). There were two women sitting at the other end of the table. We said hello.
Shortly after being seated and looking over the menu, but before ordering even the first drink, a couple was seated in the middle of the table. The woman was cute, a bit quiet with a gentle expression. The man was loud and immediately engaged the table. He started by exclaiming loudly: "What is this? Have you ever seen anything like this? It's a family dinner!"
He then bought us a round of drinks. He introduced himself as Mike, and he introduced his date as "My fourth wife, Becky."
Mike was excited about the communal table. He had never seen anything like it before and it got him going. He led us in an animated conversation which weaved together a large cross section of subjects, including but not limited to Brett Favre, the music of the band Boston, reconstructive surgery, his first wife, tourism in Alaska, and his relationship with a newscaster in Milwaukee.
At one point, in the middle of a particularly personal story, he leaned into me and Amanda and whispered conspiratorially "I shouldn't say this too loud. Becky doesn't know this story." I asked how long they had been together, and he confessed that they were not actually married. In fact, this was their first date. Mike and Becky met in Seattle, where Mike lives and works (he does marketing for two Vancouver based reconstructive surgeons who specialize in men's hair; he's also a happy customer) and had driven down to Portland ostensibly to take her out to dinner. He had also arranged to play golf with some friends and do a little business while he was in town. As evidence, he produced a match book from his wallet with Becky's number written on it.
Mike got more animated as the evening continued. His business in Portland had gone well, and he was clearly hoping to impress the shy Becky, who told us she works for an insurance company. Actually, she might not be so shy. It's just that next to Mike, anyone would come across as seeming a little quiet.
I'll cut to the chase. Mike bought dinner for the table. He went on a date with one woman and ended up picking up the check for eight people. And I know he loved every minute of it. Do I wonder how the rest of his evening turned out? You bet! Do I wonder if there will be a second date? You better believe I do. Did Mike restore my faith in communal dining? Indeed he did.
I would like to raise a glass. To Mike and Becky. Good luck you two kids!
Today, we're off to Seattle. But first, a little coffee and toast to get the day started right.
1 comment:
Okay, fine, I'll keep reading, donut or no donut. Love it.
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