Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Party of Six

You're out at dinner.

You look at the table to your left. You notice something. An odd party of 6.  Although out of earshot, their conversations seem to you very surface-level, virginal, forced, incredibly awkward.  Two of them (who have isolated themselves at the far end of the table) are old, balding, oldish dudes wearing golf shirts, Kirkland Sigs, and leather shoe-sandals, probably named Mike and Steve.  Another one, a member of the AARP- she's talking to the waitress about her discount and begging for separate checks. The next, a young & pretty 20 something reading the internet on her phone, texting her boyfriend. The fifth is too well-dressed for this business park chain eatery with his designer duds, flamboyant gestures, the unicorn of food modifications. The last, a married middle-aged man who (by body language and an incessant "my wife this...my wife that...") seems to be screaming to the rest of the table (but especially to unicorn) that he is straight, straight, & staight.

Who are these people? Why are they sharing a table you wonder?

Well keen observer that you are...

                     We are the average laying over airline crew.