One of our favorite things to do when we eat out is to watch the people around us and make up what’s going on in their lives.
You see a young couple who are smiling nervously and have extremely good table manners, and you know they must be on a first date. It’s not hard to pick out family groups or business associates grabbing a bite to eat. This is a lot of fun and is cheaper than going to the movies, except when you run across a family argument.
On our anniversary trip to Saint Augustine we ate one evening at a nice Mexican food restaurant in a second-floor room with spectacular views of Matanzas Bay. We could have taken a table on the balcony with even better outlooks, but it was the middle of summer and nothing comes between us and our air conditioning. We had settled into our booth and ordered our meals. I got the fajita nachos which didn’t include processed cheese sauce but used actual cheese grated on top. While we waited for the plates to come out we looked around for some people to watch.
Right next to us were two tables put together to accommodate a large family—two children, a mother and father and two older people, evidently grandparents. The older man had silky white wavy hair and had the face of a saint. All he needed were a black suit, stiff white collar and an Irish brogue and he could have been a priest. The older woman stood and gave him a big hug, so the priest hypothesis went out the window. They weren’t acting like he was practicing vows of chastity.
She then went out to the balcony and talked to another man, not quite as old as the one who got the hug but still in the grandfather age range. He had moved his chair so his back was to the dining room and he faced straight out to the bay. He smiled broadly when the old lady spoke. Now this wasn’t a “I’m glad to see you” smile but a “I’m mad as hell but I’m not admitting it to you” grin.
In a few minutes the mother, father and two kids went out to talk to the man on the balcony, who—by the way—was slurping down a tall glass of white wine. When I looked back inside at the erstwhile priest, he had his hand to his pale wrinkled cheek and I swore I saw tears in his eyes.
The scenario was evident. The family was having dinner with three of the grandparents, and one of the guys said something that started a spat which ended with Smiley deciding to eat alone on the balcony. I guessed it was Smiley’s wife who was missing. Either she was dead or she divorced him because he had a tendency to blow up and leave the room. I couldn’t imagine Holy Guy ever saying anything intentional to hurt anyone so I was blaming Smiley.
In a few minutes the family returned—without Smiley—and their food arrived. Holy Guy was too upset to eat so he made his way out to the balcony, sat down and talked to the other grandparent who still wore that hard-as-nails grin on his face. After a few minutes they shook hands, but Smiley didn’t move. At least when he got back to the table Holy Guy was able to eat some of his meal.
By this time our meal had arrived and my wife thoroughly enjoyed whatever it was that she ordered. I don’t remember what it was, but she gave me a spoonful and it indeed was tasty. I, on the other hand, was put off of my fajita nacho magnifico because of the family drama I had just imagined by watching a bunch of complete strangers. Luckily I had my extra-large margarita, and by the time I had it half drunk, my spirits returned. I was able to finish off my fajita nachos which were magnifico.
The family finished and left. Smiley still nursed his wine and ate his meal. I could not tell if he enjoyed it or not because he had his back to me. I can only assume he came in a separate car or else he was in trouble because his ride had left the station.
I wondered aloud to my wife if spying on private lives was an ethical pastime. Perhaps beyond invading the world of innocent people, this hobby wasn’t good for my own digestion.
“Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “Here. Finish my margarita. It’ll make you feel better.”
I did polish it off, and by golly she was right. The next day I was at it again during lunch at Dairy Queen. I’m too old to try to become a better person anyway