Dining out

After our escape from the trolley ride in Staunton, we went to eat at a place called The Pullman, which used to be the train depot. When we went in, we were right in the bar, and we awkwardly tried to figure out if we were supposed to seat ourselves, or even if we wanted to seat ourselves in the bar area. A female voice yelled from across the room to ask whether we wanted to sit down.

No, thanks, we prefer to just stand here awkwardly.

We were making for the nearest seat when she yelled, as an afterthought, that we could sit inside if we wanted.

So we made our way through the bar, with the few patrons who were there watching us the whole way, and entered the dimly lit dining room. Here there was a sign that commanded us to wait to be seated, so we obediently waited. When no waitress was forthcoming, we debated whether we should seat ourselves. "But the sign says to wait," I said. I was born with that gene that does not allow disobedience to signs. People, yes -- signs, no.

So we continued to stand awkwardly, every now and then peering back into the bar in hopes that the yelling waitress would come to our rescue. Another waitress appeared, carrying a tray, and we breathed a sigh of relief. Surely she would help us in our predicament.

But she went right on by us, although she did appear to wonder what we were doing just standing around in the doorway. Finally, just when I was ready to grab a menu and sit down -- in direct defiance of the "please wait" sign -- the yelling waitress came in.

"Oh, are you ready?" she said.

No, we just wanted to see what you've done with the decor. Of course we're ready!

And so we were seated, thankfully without having to break any sign instructions. The woman behind us was furiously snapping pictures of the restaurant, like she was a paparazzo in training, although we could see nothing that was particularly picture worthy. "Keep your eye on that fake tree over there," I whispered to Joe. "There might be a celebrity hiding behind it."

We waited just as long for the waiter to appear as we had to be seated, and he apologized that "it was too early in the day" for him. "I hope they don't serve breakfast here," I said to Joe when the waiter had disappeared again. "He'd be asleep in the eggs."

Apparently it was too early in the day for the kitchen staff as well, because it was almost breakfast time when our food arrived. As we started in, another party was seated behind us and the bench I was sitting on was bodily picked up and moved an inch or so. I turned my head and met an enormous stomach. The owner of the stomach apologized, saying he was just trying to create some more room on his side. "Basically," said one of the others with him, "it's a matter of a fat guy not fitting into the booth."

I thought about saying "And you haven't eaten yet?" but thought better of it.

We toiled through our meal, almost falling asleep as we waited for the check. I escaped to the bathroom while Joe paid, and when I came back he wasn't there. Neither was the party containing the large-fronted man. I panicked. Had Joe inadvertently said something to offend him, and they had all carried him out to the train tracks to meet a terrible end? I called his cell phone.

"Hey," his voice said, echoing as if he were in a cave somewhere. Not the train tracks -- the underground caverns!

"Where are you?" I said frantically. Did he even know where they had taken him? Was he free to talk?

"I'm...in...the bathroom," he said.

I was so relieved I was annoyed. "The bathroom! What are you doing in the BATHROOM??"

At that point he came out of the bathroom, which I was standing right in front of, and I almost bowled him over in my relief.

"Boy, I'll have to go to the bathroom more often," he said. "I get great reception."