The Lone Patron

I was at a Mexican restaurant recently. I didn’t see a single Mexican there. I think they were all in the kitchen, cooking.

My family was out of town, and I was alone. I can’t remember the last time I ate alone. The last time I ate alone was before I got married. So (I’m trying to count here) at least six years ago.

But before I met Charity, I ate alone. I got so used to it. Whenever I’d sit down at a table with other people, I felt awkward. I wasn’t much of a conversationalist. I’d try to get in the conversation the best I could.

I would say things like, “Did you know that wearing headphones for long periods could increase bacteria growth in your ears?”

Yeah, I was the life of the party.

I wasn’t used to eating with people. I’d go to the local pizza parlor, order a large supreme pizza, and eat the whole thing in total silence.

The reason I bring this up is because of the conversation I overheard behind me while I was eating alone recently. I wanted to shove rocks in my ears.

These two people were the two most boring people on planet Earth. They dressed in scrubs with a business name stitched on the shirt in the area over their hearts. I can’t forget his voice. If I ever walk into a doctor’s office and hear that voice anywhere in the building, I’m out of there.

Here’s a portion of their conversation:

Him: “Yeah, well, you know, his bones were deforming and basically rotting inside his legs.”

Her: “Wow! How do you fix something like that?”

Him: “So what I did was I injected cholorosomoramathine hydromaxabetainstabyne into the bottom of each foot and gave each leg a real good jerk, and he was home free.”

Her: “That’s amazing.” She oohed and aahed. “I’m sure that gave him so much relief.”

Him: “Oh, it did. They just aren’t doing these things in the big city.”

He sighed. “I had another patient with a crooked back and pelvis that looked like he tried to swing it like Elvis. Only he’s eighty-five, and it got stuck.”

Her: “Well, that’s so unfortunate.”

Him: “Ha! Tell me about it. I had to lay flat across his chest and push and pull with the might of a herd of elephants to get him straightened out.” He shrugged. “But I doubt his hips will ever be the same.”

Dear God.

I finally got the attention of the waitress. “I need to go as soon as possible. Thank you.”

When I went to pay the check, I glanced over at them, so I could see the faces of two people who like to torture people — by speaking loud enough in a quiet restaurant so other patrons can overhear them.

It was then that I realized that with people like that as my only company, I’d rather eat alone.

to the lone patrons,
– Caleb