p(dropcap) Food is a wonderful thing, especially when you don’t have to cook it or do the dishes afterwards. It is nice to go out on occasion and treat yourself to the reaping of someone else’s kitchen labours. Unless you happen to be me and my husband. We tend to have bad luck with restaurants.

It’s not that we don’t enjoy eating out in the varied establishments that can be found in the Boyle Street and McCauley area – we certainly do from time to time. It’s more that we tend to have little endurance for the rest of humanity. There are no better places to test one’s patience than in restaurants.

The most patience-trying issue of restaurants is that they are public places, meaning open to the public, open to everyone. I have nothing against the public. I just try to avoid it. I especially try to evade the littlest members of the public: children. There is just something about screaming children that puts me off my appetite. I smile and laugh to reassure the parents that it’s really no problem and that the devilish offspring really isn’t bothering us. The truth is that they really are perturbing me. I understand the need of parents to get out once in a while. That doesn’t make it any easier to endure the unrelenting energy of their little ones.

Another point of conflict is the serving staff. I comprehend the demoralization of a low paid, over-worked job. I’ve been there. When dealing with any service staff I try very hard to be as accommodating and pleasant as possible. Most times this effort is returned. However, there are times when I do feel that the person waiting on me should be put under psychological observation. The demeanor of some serving staff that I’ve encountered has led me to believe that they just lost their home, their dog ran away, and their significant other has packed up and moved on. All this must have happened just before I walked in the door. This can really sour a meal for me.

Bad food can also sour my stomach. Restaurants can be a tricky business to operate. One has to balance supplies between maybe not having enough and maybe have too much. This translates into hoping that the vegetables on your plate aren’t any older than your last haircut. As I get along in years my digestive system makes itself known more frequently. What is the point of saving myself the time in the kitchen when I just end up spending it in the bathroom? Terrible but true.

A further truth about dining out is that I tend to embarrass myself. I am completely lacking in any form of grace. This becomes exponentially apparent the larger the number of people that are around. Do you know that person in a restaurant who swallows their water wrong and ends up coughing and choking for the next half hour? That’s me. I’ve also been known to unsuccessfully juggle coffee cups in a spectacular, attention-getting manner which concludes with coffee all over my shirt, the table, my husband, and our food. It’s a great side show but I don’t make that much in gratuities.

We don’t eat out much. The simple trials and tribulations of it become harder to bear as the years pile up on us. We’re as cantankerous as those month-old carrots on your plate. We’re just not meant for mass consumption.

Keri lives in Boyle Street. We look forward to her attending one of our volunteer appreciation events that take place in a restaurant, and will be watching her every move when she is there.