Tonight I pay seventeen dollars for a salad.
It arrives drenched, “field greens” limp with balsamic and a strong temptation takes hold. I could stir my napkin around the bowl, soaking up the excess mess. Luckily, I catch myself and instead, look for conversational distraction.
To my right, an Italian man charms Yoga Girl from L.A. to his right.
To my left, a soft-spoken French man tells me about being vegetarian in France. I try to be charmed, but find my mind drifting. I wish he were here. Wait a minute—get present. He is not here. What is actually going on around me? Stay in the moment.
“I do not like blood,” Frenchman says, face slightly pickled.
Is this an animal rights thing? I am about to ask. Or some kind of personal issue? I am not about to ask.
To his left, a feisty woman with a loud voice interrupts. She keeps correcting his pronunciation, which keeps making me laugh (not at him, but at her). She is a native New Yorker (figures). Apparently, she is also a speech-therapist-voice-coach of some sort. I guess that explains why she was doing those funny voice exercises while we were running—and I just assumed she was crazy. I will need more information before changing my mind.
In front of me, across the table, a bubbly young Asian woman asks about my work. She is also a PhD, some kind of social scientist. We exchange contact information.
Down the other end of the table, Santa waxes knowledgeable on the essential differences between men and women (again). Hilarious.
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