There were three of us. We sat down at the only open table, the one with four chairs over in the corner. I’m sure we looked like tourists, because we were.
The talk was about the day’s itinerary and – of course – what we were going to order for lunch in the little café. It was a roadside place on the west coast of Ireland. Nothing fancy, but looking it over as we were, through visitor’s eyes, it seemed extra quaint and cozy.
A man sat down in the open chair at our table.
I have to admit, I was startled. Barging in on a group’s lunch is frowned upon, at least in my circle of dining-out acquaintances. If we’d invited him to sit down that would have been another thing. I hadn’t even noticed him until he joined us.
He was smiling, anyway. Kind of an infectious grin. Maybe that impression was also due to my tourist eyes. He didn’t look like a nut, particularly.
As it turned out, he was a sportswriter for one of the area’s newspapers just popping in for a bite to eat. He saw an open chair and sat in it. I later learned that’s the custom in Ireland and Europe.
In retrospect, I think I would have paid cash money for the experience. Bought a ticket for the dine-with-a-local excursion and looked forward to it, just like the medieval dining night in a local castle. I realized then that it was a shame that Americans are so set apart by our zones of privacy and comfort.
Today is catch-up with bookstacks, but yesterday was another busy day at lunchtime. At one point, three separate parties were looking for a place to sit. There were two ladies who came in independently, and a woman with her husband, who were out to celebrate his birthday.
“We were just looking for a little adventure,” she said.
“I’ll bring out the rhinos,” I answered. (Just kidding about that part.)
One table was open, the four-top (that’s our secret restaurant code for a table that will accommodate four chairs). By the time I arrived to welcome them, they were all settled in and smiling, and I assumed they were all together.
It was well into the experience before I realized three groups had seated themselves together, European-style. Ironically, another guest and I had talked about that very thing earlier in the week, how Americans would turn away rather than share a table with strangers. And here it was, happening.
When one of the ladies excused herself to return to work, I overheard the group saying their goodbyes, using first names, with promises to “call you soon.” Maybe astonished is a little strong, but I was certainly amazed.
There is a bit of coziness amongst the tables here. I have noticed guests speaking to each other from table to table, which I rarely see when I dine out. Of course, there aren’t any booths or wall dividers here. One table is slightly set apart from the others. Perhaps that can be the designated privacy section. Or not.
After getting over the surprise at having the Irish gentleman sit down at our table, I truly enjoyed the chance to learn something about his world and his experiences. It was an opportunity to have a conversation with someone with a different perspective on life, a person I would never, ever, speak to again. A chance encounter.
Here in Broken Arrow, I suppose the odds are better that you might later run into someone you’d spoken to in the little bistro area of McHuston Booksellers. But that’s not a bad thing, is it?
We can all use another friendly acquaintance or two, in my book. And books are what I do.
Come visit!
McHuston
Booksellers and Irish Bistro
Rose District, Broken Arrow OK
122 South Main Street
918-258-3301
