Christopher tm Herdt (cherdt) wrote,
Christopher tm Herdt
cherdt

You know, that place, with Sangria?

A girl on a cell phone was trying to make arrangements for a cab to pick her up at 2:30 P.M. "By the Law Quad, there's this one street. You know, by this one...this one...shoot. There's a bar right by there. I can't remember the name of it. It's this bar by the Law Quad, you know the place I mean? Shoot. It's got a balcony, you know? It's the place where you get Sangria in the summer."

I looked at her. "Dominick's."

Then oktiger and well_lahdidah made fun of me for eavesdropping. It's not so bad, because that same girl laughed when we were talking about tequila nights, and turnabout's fair play. Eavesdropping is, I admit, a bad habit of mine and a guilty pleasure. One of the great joys of dining out, I feel, is the opportunity it allows you to eavesdrop.

But it's not really eavesdropping proper when the whole room can hear it. It's like the time flastron and I were in a crummy diner on US-131 in Allegan County, and some of the regulars were trying to figure out the name of the daughter on "Married with Children" for a crossword puzzle. They were talking back-and-forth across the diner, and flastron couldn't help himself: "Kelly."

(The blueberry pie at that place wasn't as good as I hoped it would be. I was a little creeped out when a guy in the parking lot asked which car was mine, because he really liked the huge American flag sticker on the back of a Volvo. No, I said. Mine's the Buick. He seemed really disappointed by that. Nothing says patriotism like a sticker on a Volvo.)

An odd situation: you want to help, but by helping you admit that you've been listening in. I'm hoping some of you also have stories about blurting out answers to questions from someone else's conversation.
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