Party size: 2

Customers: Regular fat married couple. Tourists. Nothing suspect upon meeting them.

Husband: “I’m sitting outside.”

Cheer: “Yes. I know. I’m outside talking to you at your table, which is also outside. Amazing isn’t it?”

Husband: “Yes. Yes, but…I’m right next to the front door.”

Cheer: “I’d agree with that statement.”

Husband: “And, and I’m facing the walkway up to the front door, which I am sitting right next to and looking at, like, right now.”

Cheer: “Uh-huh.”

Husband: “So, I see everyone that comes into the restaurant. I see them as they’re walking up to the door, as they ascend the steps to the door, and as they enter the restaurant.”

Cheer: “It’s almost like a having a super-power sitting out here.”

Husband: “Golly, I think so.”

Cheer: “Well, if you’re done telling me useless information about your dining vantage point, I’m going to go back inside and drink more alcohol on the job.”

Husband: “Wait! Ummm…uhhh…”

Cheer: “I’m afraid you’re going to touch me so I’m keeping a safe distance. Still listening, though.”

Husband: “OK. OK. So, you know how I was telling you that I was sitting here and I can see everyone that goes inside?”

Cheer: “Yes. I believe we thoroughly covered that topic.”

Husband: “Well, I, I, I can hardly believe it, but, but, I saw a ridiculously famous athlete go in there.”

Cheer: “You’re not mistaken. A ridiculously famous athlete did indeed walk in that door and is dining just inside.”

Husband: “Ohmygod. Do you think it would be OK if I came inside to meet him and get his autograph?”

Cheer: “Why didn’t you ask him when you saw him going inside?”

Husband: “I was in shock. Only after half an hour did I gain the courage to ask your permission to do it.”

Cheer: “As much as that would have been fine half an hour ago when he arrived, and will be OK in an hour or so when he’s leaving, I think it would be highly inappropriate to interrupt his meal for an autograph. He’s already started on his first course.”

Husband: “Oh. OK.”

Cheer: “I’m going to leave your bill here for you and go back inside now.”

Husband: “OK.”

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Later, Cheer emerges from the kitchen to find husband-man in the foyer of the restaurant.

Cheer: “Can I help you with something?”

Husband: “I just came inside to be closer to the athlete….uhh…I mean to pay the bill. Your coworker took it for me.”

Cheer: “OK. Well, thanks again and have a good night. I’m just going to the furthest corner of the restaurant now, where I can’t see you, in order to assist my other table. I should be back in a few minutes if you need anything.”

Husband: “OK, thanks.”

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Cheer: “Chatty-chat-chat-chatting to you, other table of mine, about bullshit like the weather in your home city compared to the weather here.”

Other table: “Thanks so much for entertaining us for a good 3 minutes with your humor, knowledge and sparkling personality. We’re not going to increase your tip for it. Also, we’re over it and this is an appropriate time for you to leave the table and let us talk to each other again.”

Cheer: “Yay! I’m outta here!”

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Cheer: “Hum dee dum. I’m just walking back to the bar through the main area of the restaurant….and….what the fuck?”

Cheer to coworker upon reaching bar aka server hangout spot: “Uhhhh…so, what’s up with creepy-outside-guy standing in the center of the dining room and openly staring at the ridiculously famous athlete?”

Coworker: “I don’t think he’s aware of what he’s doing.”

Cheer: “He’s not even being coy. He’s standing in the middle of the dining room, 10 feet from our famous person and staring. He’s been there since I went to chat up my other table, hasn’t he?”

Coworker: “Yup.”

Cheer: “I’m so intrigued by his lack of social awareness that I can’t bring myself to make him stop.”

Coworker: “Is he going to ask for his autograph?”

Cheer: “Seeing as he’s been there for a good couple of minutes and has yet to make a move, I’m going with no.”

Coworker: “Should we do something? This is totally worse than interrupting for an autograph.”

Cheer: “Yeah…about that…I’m scared of that guy. I think if you were interrupt his stare, he might pop back into reality, but on the way out of his trance, he’d lick your face.”

Coworker: “Oh. Oh god. That’s absolutely what would happen. I like my face. Sorry famous athlete.”

Cheer: “I’m keeping my face as far from that guy as possible.”

Coworker: “I think he’s leaving.”

Cheer: “The wife must have buzzed the homing beacon to get him to go, cause that stalker would wait for the end of days to get an autograph.”

Coworker: “I’m gonna go ahead and agree with you on that.”

Cheer: “Wanna hide in the kitchen until he leaves as to avoid additional and unnecessary interaction with him?”

Coworker: “Yes, please!”