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People You've Met While Dining Alone


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I can't believe this didn't spring to mind the moment The Alone in Paris in April thread opened. I met my husband when he was dining alone. We were both waiting for a table. My friend and I discovered he was traveling and all by himself. I invited him to share a table with us. As the meal went on we discovered a suprising number of common interests. We struck up a friendship that evening and kept in touch. Two years later we got married.

Why did I invite him to my table? I used to travel to a lot of small industrial towns for work, in China. Everywhere I went, I always had a few meals alone. Some of them were pretty dismal. Don't get me wrong, dining alone can be a wonderful thing, but sometimes when you're a stranger somewhere, and you're taking your meals one after the other at a table for one, it can get old. Sometimes I'd pick up strange touring companions just to have someone to eat with, like the guy who had the use of that limousine in Urumqi, or the nice fellows in Tian Jin who took me to the fish market and helped me box up some crabs to take home to Beijing. I had some very interesting meals in Shanghai with some curious characters. But that is the past.

There were some things I learned about being a traveler that will never leave me, and it was really what prompted me to invite my future husband to join us. I'm so glad I did! :smile:

Has anyone else met interesting people while dining alone, or decide to eat with people you didn't know? Anyone have stories to tell?

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I dine alone frequently on the road, however not often with strangers. Mostly it's my fault. I usually feel bad about taking up a table at a restaurant all by myself, so I often eat at the bar, alone. I must confess it is a pretty gruesome experience when you are used to eating at a table of four.

The closest I came was when I was in Milwaukee and I wanted dinner at the Chop House. The table next to me commented how they liked bottle of wine I chose, I was spluring on myself and was on my second glass, so I sent the rest of the bottle over to thier table.

After dinner we chatted a bit, and that was nice.

I don't know if inviting people over to you table is that common over here. It is a pitty, for it made a rather dull evening tolerable.

To be fair the food at the Chop house was very good. I didn't want to give the wrong impression. The dull part of the evening was the lack of conversation.

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Ah, it's been way too long since I did a butt. - Susan Fahning aka "snowangel"

--------------------

One summers evening drunk to hell, I sat there nearly lifeless…Warren

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I quite like dining alone - always have... I've met a few interesting people. Including the agricultural co-op worker from the West Indies who was touring around fiji studying vanilla plantations. What an interesting job! We had breakfast together and told me all about his work.

But I've had a few horror stories

My family moved around asia a lot when I was younger. In Malaysia we were living in a hotel for a few months before our house became available. I was 14 - but looked older. However, I was from a rural australian religious school and really only interested in my pony. So I was a bit naive to say the least. But I was blonde...and..er...'quite developed'.

I'd been sent down to fend for myself at the hotel coffeeshop as my parents had a work function to attend. I felt quite mature - all alone in a five star hotel cafe, I had a copy of smash hits to read complete with picture of Duran Duran on the cover (phworgh!), a burger and fries to eat and was contemplating the cheesecake option for dessert. Independance! Life was gooooood.

When suddenly -

Mr. Japanese Salaryman wandered over from a nearby table and said he would like to join me. I was so young at this stage that I thought all adult requests had to be followed obediently and despite the fact that I really did not want this person at my table I said 'yes'.

I was absolutely mortified and expected my parents to turn up any minute and see me with a 45 year old mid level mfanager from osaka. It was excrutiating... I think my uninvited guest picked up on my discomfort - or perhaps he could feel the heat emanating from me as I was blushing so fiercely. He asked me how old I was - I told him 14. He went white and made his excuses...

I couldn't stay after that - I was sure the entire hotel staff was taking the piss out of me at that stage so went upstairs - only half the burger eaten! I then had the completely unreasonable thought (I was 14 - forgive me!) that he had seen my room number on the hotel key and was going to loiter outside my room contemplating an assault.

I think it's fabulous that you met your husband when dining alone lucy. I was thinking how romantic that was when it occured to me that I met mine when travelling on business - the diffence being that I was tired, grumpy, jetlagged and needed a drink. So I went down to the hotel bar and when I didn't get served got really narky at the tall bloke in the corner whom I assumed was a waiter.

Turned out he was there for a conference and waiting for a drink too... ooops.

but reader - i married him!

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. . . complete with picture of Duran Duran on the cover (phworgh!),

Great stories, all...and LEXICON keeper!!!!! Add this word. Perhaps for the "Worst Meal" or "Regrettable Dinners" threads...it should come in handy, and I know Portia will share.

I have quite a few of these shared-meal memories myself, including one in which we got into a conversation with a couple at our side of the Benihana table, were persuaded to come for job interviews, were given several weeks training, and worked for them for more than a year, which led to Hubby's getting his stockbroker's license, etc., etc., and another move, onward and upward.

Strange how the little steps off Life's path stray our feet onto another route entirely.

We've met odd fellows and charming couples and downright weird folks; we've made new friends and in other instances, considered escaping with our lives a bonus. We dived into a mob of bikers at their invitation once---two seats at their huge round table were the only ones available, and we had a hilarious, raucous evening, lasting well past midnight, and ended up going to their rally in another county, enjoying a wonderful day amongst the Rumble Sisters and Thunderheads.

We sat over our breakfast at Shoney's one Sunday, and seeing a nice scruffy-bearded man with a flag bandana, invited him to leave the long line and take a chair at our table. He was the head of a Vietnam Vets organization, and we were intrigued by his charitable works and humble manners...visited his home later, and could help with printer problems in the little newsletter office he ran.

A young couple joined us one evening at a catfish place, and we clumsily conversed betwixt our Southern lingo and their Bosnian language, discovering an odd link involving our mutual fondness for Lonesome Dove---how that came up I still cannot remember, and discussing the Wild West with folks from the Eastern bloc was quite a feat. We later ran into them in another restaurant, where they both are waiters, and they just couldn't do enough for us, even brought over the manager to meet us.

And several years ago, waiting at the airport here to pick up DS#5, I sat in the food court, reading. I felt a bump on the back of my chair, looked down, and there was an immense guitar case. I went on reading, then looked back at the floor to see several black instrument cases spread around the adjoining table.

Another Bump of chairs, and the bearded man sitting back-to-back with me apologized. I smiled, got up and moved one-around-the-table to give them more room, and he caught my eye and mentioned the weather here or some local topic. THEN the others chimed in with their last night's activities, and despite the years since I last saw them perform, I recognized Peter, Paul and Mary.

Talking to ME just like we knew each other. Icons of an age, and I couldn't stop humming "Puff, the Magic...." all the way home.

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Sometime around the mid-'60s, my family was away for the weekend and I decided to drive out to Malibu to the Big Rock Cafe for a late breakfast. I arrived during a lull and got a table right next to the windows overlooking the surf and settled in reading a book. The place filled up rapidly and the waitress came to the table (table for 4) and asked if I would mind having another single patron join me and I said it was fine with me.

A young man sat down, introduced himself as "Dave Thomas" with what sounded like an English accent. I got on with my breakfast and my reading, we agreed the weather was beautiful, water probably cold for the surfers. He was curious about my fried grits - a specialty of the place.

Soon there began a series of visits to the table by young people, mostly girls, asking for autographs, not obnoxious or noisy, except for a little squeal now and then, but obvious.

After I finished my breakfast and was leaving he apologized for the disturbance. I told him I had a fair number of friends in the business and knew how it was and I apologized because I said I really had no idea who he was but assumed he was a musician popular with the young people, and then I left. It was only much later that I learned he was Davy Jones from the Monkees. I rarely watched TV in those days, never really had the time, so the face was completely unfamiliar to me. My stepdaughter was furious that I hadn't gotten his autograph for her. All I could say was that he was a very nicely-mannered young man, neatly dressed and rather quiet.

"There are, it has been said, two types of people in the world. There are those who say: this glass is half full. And then there are those who say: this glass is half empty. The world belongs, however, to those who can look at the glass and say: What's up with this glass? Excuse me? Excuse me? This is my glass? I don't think so. My glass was full! And it was a bigger glass!" Terry Pratchett

 

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I was in Reading in the early 1980's having a cheap set lunch in a Chinese restaurant as was was my wont on the day my dole cheque arrived. A well preserved lady d'une certain age arrived and I was asked if she could could share my table. I of course graciously indicated my consent. She saw my music paper on the table - it was the New Musical Express - and said "oh, have they reviewed the new Led Zep?".

I was natutrally curious at why this matronly figure was concerned about critical reaction to the world's biggest rock band, but showed her the review anyway. Now remember this was the height of new wave when Led Zeppelin did not enjoy the critical status they deserve. In fact the review blamed them for every musical crime of the last twenty years, plus inflation, unemployment, the cold war and quite possibly leprosy too. She started reading it and muttered "now that's unfair...oh they've got that wrong...no that's not the way it happened..". I had to ask:

"You seem to know a lot about the band..."

"Well, you know the know the guitarist," she replied.

"Yes, Jimmy Page" I respond.

"I'm his mum!".

I apologise profusely for any offence, swallowed my prawn balls and left as quick as I could.

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I routinely meet people when dining along, and will also invite other single diners to join me. Lots of interesting sorts, and I've kept up with a few of them over the years.

I've never had a bad experience.

Can you pee in the ocean?

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Now see, this is all kinds of inspiration to me. I regularly find myself dining alone, but very seldom take the opportunity to interact with other diners, for despite my highly sociable nature I also have a certain awkwardness, even paranoia, about being social with total strangers. No truly awful past experiences, but just enough tacky boorishness that it's made me wary. But maybe I should just get over myself and see what I've been missing all this time. Ghod knows I'm certainly better at verbal self defence (in case things go sour) than I was in my super-awkward twenties. :biggrin:

Edited to add: y'know, I always used to admire my ex for her incredible talent at striking up friendly conversations with total strangers. She was especially good with shopkeepers and festival craftspeople--totally disarming them with praise for their wares, and then using that as a natural entree to ask them all sorts of things about their processes etc. Must have been the gift o' gab from the Irish part of her heritage. :smile:

Edited by mizducky (log)
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My mom and I were shopping in Hong Kong after we'd been in China for several months. We were at the point of desperation for a good burger or any American style food at all, for that matter, and on our first day out, headed straight to Dan Ryan's, an American bar/grill type place for lunch. (I always wonder if it's still there.)

Anyway, we sat, it wasn't terribly busy, and we noticed a man around my mother's age sit alone at a table not far away. Shortly after ordering, he came to our table, was very polite, and asked if we would join him. We agreed, and shared a lovely lunch. He was American, travelling Asia on business and lonely for his family back in the states. He insisted on buying our lunch, and we saw him for dinner a few nights later. I think he had a bit of a crush on my mom, which did not entirely please my step-father. ;) I hope he made it back to his family ok.

Another time, I was eating alone in an udon shop in Japan. I was maybe fifteen or sixteen, but young and a little... unexperienced for my age. An American guy walked in, and as other Americans are wont to do in strange lands, we made eye contact. He asked to join me and being the naive child that I was, I said ok. We chatted for a bit, he asked what I was doing by myself in a large Japanese city, I explained I went to boarding school there, and asked what he was doing. He explained that he was in Japan studying Japanese Manga and Animation.

And then it got weird. He pulled out of his satchel several Japanese comic books, and said that he wanted to show them to me. That they were amazing works of art or something. So, he opens one, and I realize they weren't innocent Japanese comic books. They were porn. This crazy old guy (to me at the time, he couldn't have been over thrityfive) was trying to show me porn! And it wasn't "normal" porn. They were really disturbing, grotesque, twisted porn comic books.

I started sort of flipping out. I realized I'd told him where I went to school, that I was along way from the dorm, and that I was ALONE. Suddenly, he went from being a nice, normal guy to being Jack the Ripper in my head. And I had to get out. I think I mumbled something incoherant, threw some yen on the table for my lunch, and made my escape. I didn't even look behind me as I ran to the train station to hop the next express and be wisked away back to the safety of school. What a freak. -shudder-

-Sounds awfully rich!

-It is! That's why I serve it with ice cream to cut the sweetness!

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I, too, am awkward starting up conversations with total strangers. I do dine alone occasionally, but just keep to myself. Although I do notice stares from patrons and staff alike..... maybe they feel sorry for me and assume I was stood up?

You've all had so many wonderful experiences meeting strangers....I had one occasion too but was not so lucky. It was in the Empress Hotel, Victoria BC, and I was there as a teenager with my Dad as he was attending a conference. I was alone at brunch, and decided to partake in their continental breakfast... 2 eggs, toast, cold withered bacon....all for the low price of $24.95. :wacko:

I decided to sit at the bar because I was alone, and sat there cheerily eating my grub and having my coffee. A man sauntered up to me and sat down, being a little too physically "familiar" if you know what I mean. After a few brief exchanges he just came right out and asked me how much for <blank> :shock::shock::shock:

Needless to say I nearly choked on my food. I was a KID! I looked like a kid. He left, and the bartender then advised me that if I wasn't "working" I probably shouldn't sit at the bar. Then he needed to explain what "working" meant. I had also planned on going to go to their famous "high tea" in the afternoon, but decided against it and spent the rest of the day in my room instead.

And to this day, I will not sit at a bar by myself, even as a grownup. :sad:

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I, too, am awkward starting up conversations with total strangers. I do dine alone occasionally, but just keep to myself. Although I do notice stares from patrons and staff alike..... maybe they feel sorry for me and assume I was stood up?

You've all had so many wonderful experiences meeting strangers....I had one occasion too but was not so lucky. It was in the Empress Hotel, Victoria BC, and I was there as a teenager with my Dad as he was attending a conference. I was alone at brunch, and decided to partake in their continental breakfast... 2 eggs, toast, cold withered bacon....all for the low price of $24.95.  :wacko:

I decided to sit at the bar because I was alone, and sat there cheerily eating my grub and having my coffee. A man sauntered up to me and sat down, being a little too physically "familiar" if you know what I mean. After a few brief exchanges he just came right out and asked me how much for <blank>  :shock:  :shock:  :shock:

Needless to say I nearly choked on my food. I was a KID! I looked like a kid. He left, and the bartender then advised me that if I wasn't "working" I probably shouldn't sit at the bar. Then he needed to explain what  "working" meant. I had also planned on going to go to their famous "high tea" in the afternoon, but decided against it and spent the rest of the day in my room instead.

And to this day, I will not sit at a bar by myself, even as a grownup.  :sad:

I am unpleasantly surprised to hear that the Empress tolerated "working girls" at their bar in the first place, let alone that they allowed their unaccompanied female customers to be harrassed by other patrons, regardless of whether it was a case of mistaken identity or not. Frankly, I thought the Empress was too classy to countenance such crap on their premises. Though maybe I'm being naive here.

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And to this day, I will not sit at a bar by myself, even as a grownup.  :sad:

An unfortunate early experience, as the bar is actually a perfectly fine place to sit by yourself.

An example of a cool dining encounter:

I was in Salamanca for a conference. I'd arrived a day early so as to adjust to the time difference, and took the opportunity to take a tour of the old university. When I inquired about visiting it was explained to me by the young man selling tickets that one could only visit with a tour. I agreed to the tour, and then he explained that the tours were only in Spanish. Again, that was fine with me. Perplexed, he pointed out that I wouldn't understand any of the tour. I refrained from pointing out that not speaking Spanish is not the same as not understanding it, and bought a ticket.

During the tour I noticed another woman who was clearly anglophone, as she was reading a guide book in English as we walked along. She was older than me, dressed a bit conservatively. After the tour was over and we'd all left the building I noticed her across the street, looking at a menu in the window of a restaurant. I approached her and asked her if she was English. "Irish, actually," she answered. I explained that I was American, and alone for lunch, and asked if she'd like to join me. She answered yes, but pointed out that she had to wait until 1:00, as she needed to attend mass first. Only a tiny bit flummoxed (mass? what had I gotten myself into?), I agreed that 1:00 would be fine, and we agreed on a place to meet.

We ended up having a lovely long lunch outdoors. She was a nun, and very cool. Turned out that it was her order's saint's day, and she pretty much had to attend mass.

Can you pee in the ocean?

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I am unpleasantly surprised to hear that the Empress tolerated "working girls" at their bar in the first place, let alone that they allowed their unaccompanied female customers to be harrassed by other patrons, regardless of whether it was a case of mistaken identity or not. Frankly, I thought the Empress was too classy to countenance such crap on their premises. Though maybe I'm being naive here.

I wasn't implying they tolerated it. I don't know if they get that sort of thing often but, from the bartender's reaction, they must. High class places don't always necessarily attract high class people.

I'd like to go back someday actually, and have their High Tea. If I'm alone and accosted, so be it.... these days I know where to kick. :biggrin:

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Sometime around the mid-'60s, my family was away for the weekend and I decided to drive out to Malibu to the Big Rock Cafe for a late breakfast.  I arrived during a lull and got a table right next to the windows overlooking the surf and settled in reading a book.  The place filled up rapidly and the waitress came to the table (table for 4) and asked if I would mind having another single patron join me and I said it was fine with me. 

A young man sat down, introduced himself as "Dave Thomas" with what sounded like an English accent.  I got on with my breakfast and my reading, we agreed the weather was beautiful, water probably cold for the surfers.  He was curious about my fried grits - a specialty of the place. 

Soon there began a series of visits to the table by young people, mostly girls, asking for autographs, not obnoxious or noisy, except for a little squeal now and then, but obvious. 

After I finished my breakfast and was leaving he apologized for the disturbance.  I told him I had a fair number of friends in the business and knew how it was and I apologized because I said I really had no idea who he was but assumed he was a musician popular with the young people, and then I left.  It was only much later that I learned he was Davy Jones from the Monkees.  I rarely watched TV in those days, never really had the time, so the face was completely unfamiliar to me.  My stepdaughter was furious that I hadn't gotten his autograph for her.  All I could say was that he was a very nicely-mannered young man, neatly dressed and rather quiet.

My friend did something like this a few years ago with quite embarassing effects.

She was in a coffee shop in Oxford that was filling up quickly working on her laptop. She hated communal table sharing, but would put up with it if she had to. On this particular day she simply ignored the man who came up to the table after she said that is was fine that he sat there. When he left he said thank you and she just waved him away. Some people from the next table came over and started asking what he had said and so on. "What do you mean?" she replied. "I didn't pay any attention to him. I'm working."

"But," they replied, "don't you know who that was?"

"No, and frankly I don't really care."

"Bloody Yank. That was flipping PAUL MCCARTNEY!"

And here's the part that's embarassing for me. She's my friend and I love her, but the poor girl replied: "WHO?"

In the email I got (apparently just after she left the coffee shop with angry villagers with torches and pitchforks in hot pursuit :wink: ) she asked me who this was. When I told her he was a Beatle, she was somewhat embarassed, but not as embarassed as I was for her.

Needless to say, she got the Beatles Anthology for Christmas that year!

"Life is a combination of magic and pasta." - Frederico Fellini

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I forgot Alan Dershowitz, though we did not dine together. He heard a lady ask me something about a dish on the buffet at our favorite Chinese place and asked me something as well.

He sat over at a table alone and seemed kind of forlorn; he was in town for quite a while for that Tyson thing. HIM I did not ask to join us---famous folks have quite enough people grabbing pieces of them as it is.

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At the tail end of my tour in Europe and about to turn 21 I put in for and received a leave of 30 days. I had saved from my meager Army pay of $200 a month the unheard of sum of $1,000 and I intended on living like a king before returning to the states. The year was 1964.

Even though this was during the Franco regime and you had to relinquish all your rights as a US citizen before entering Spain I felt this was my best bang for the buck. None of my friends were allowed leave so I boarded a train alone on my quest for adventure into the unknown.

On my arrival in Barcelona 2 days later I was immediately hustled by a taxi driver at the train station and promptly delivered to the very end of the Ramblas at the foot of the docks where all military personnel eventually ended up anyway. With my luggage on my back I wondered into the first restaurant I saw and not a person spoke English (surprise, surprise). As I attempted to order something I heard a laugh from an adjoining table and a beautiful young woman, several years older than myself, volunteered to help me order before I made a fool of myself. To cut a long story short she introduced me to not only the cuisine of the region but to life itself. As a result of fate I was given the opportunity to experience, for the greatest 30 days of my life, magic.

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I, too, am awkward starting up conversations with total strangers. I do dine alone occasionally, but just keep to myself. Although I do notice stares from patrons and staff alike..... maybe they feel sorry for me and assume I was stood up?

You've all had so many wonderful experiences meeting strangers....I had one occasion too but was not so lucky. It was in the Empress Hotel, Victoria BC, and I was there as a teenager with my Dad as he was attending a conference. I was alone at brunch, and decided to partake in their continental breakfast... 2 eggs, toast, cold withered bacon....all for the low price of $24.95.  :wacko:

I decided to sit at the bar because I was alone, and sat there cheerily eating my grub and having my coffee. A man sauntered up to me and sat down, being a little too physically "familiar" if you know what I mean. After a few brief exchanges he just came right out and asked me how much for <blank>  :shock:  :shock:  :shock:

Needless to say I nearly choked on my food. I was a KID! I looked like a kid. He left, and the bartender then advised me that if I wasn't "working" I probably shouldn't sit at the bar. Then he needed to explain what  "working" meant. I had also planned on going to go to their famous "high tea" in the afternoon, but decided against it and spent the rest of the day in my room instead.

And to this day, I will not sit at a bar by myself, even as a grownup.  :sad:

Oh. My. God. Omigod. Holy crap.

"We had dry martinis; great wing-shaped glasses of perfumed fire, tangy as the early morning air." - Elaine Dundy, The Dud Avocado

Queenie Takes Manhattan

eG Foodblogs: 2006 - 2007

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Wow, this thread has some of the best stories I've seen on egullet!

No particular stories to approach those recounted that I can remember right now, but I've had almost uniformly good experiences (so far!) eating alone at the bar or at tables of restaurants when I've traveled for work. I usually come with some reading material to peruse while waiting for my order, but often end up putting the reading aside when conversations evolve with other people. Some of my best experiences were in Amsterdam. As a solo diner it's fun to revel in the slight sense of mystery that seems to arise and which can lead to interesting conversations.

Edited by ludja (log)

"Under the dusty almond trees, ... stalls were set up which sold banana liquor, rolls, blood puddings, chopped fried meat, meat pies, sausage, yucca breads, crullers, buns, corn breads, puff pastes, longanizas, tripes, coconut nougats, rum toddies, along with all sorts of trifles, gewgaws, trinkets, and knickknacks, and cockfights and lottery tickets."

-- Gabriel Garcia Marquez, 1962 "Big Mama's Funeral"

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Does dinner on Pan Am flight #1 with Cat Stevens count? He was tired of his entourage.

This would have been a "few" years ago. Bet there are people here who don't remember Pan Am, or even know that coach class used to come with real dishes.

Susan Fahning aka "snowangel"
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Many years ago when I worked at a large resort hotel I was in early one Sunday morning and sat in the coffee shop to have breakfast. It was slow and I sat alone reading the paper. I heard someone walk up say in a voice I knew. "May I join you?"

It was David Brinkley. He had been at the hotel Saturday for a speech but i di not know he has stayed over. Us managment types were supposed to know when VIP's were around. I nearly spit up my coffee while saying Please do.

He was a true gentleman, we ate and he asked me about the hotel and the area. In the hotel we often met famous people and I always tried not to impose or ask inane questions. So we just sort of chatted. There were lots of things I wanted to ask about his career, but the only one i did was to ask him if he missed NBC. It was a lame question, but I was simply trying to make converstion. He said it was were he spent along time and had many friends, but that the managment nolonger thought him relevent.

As I said he was a very real gentleman.

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I obviously dont travel enough, and havent met anyone famous but my husband has made it a habit when we sit at a communal table to sit next to each other so we are facing any strangers...to facilitate chatting.

...My mother on just reading this thread said she met a lovely couple while in Chicago for a trade show and ate with them all week.

tracey

The great thing about barbeque is that when you get hungry 3 hours later....you can lick your fingers

Maxine

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"It is the government's fault, they've eaten everything."

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Interesting thread. I dine alone all the time; I travel frequently for work, and never let that stop me from eating at better restaurants. I rarely talk to people at nearby tables, usually happy either chatting with friends on my Treo or reading a book, but sometimes people at the next table are friendly.

Once, at Benoit in France, I ended up sharing food with the Americans at the next table. Surprised the waitstaff.

Bruce

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I've been lucky enough in my life to have several brushes with the famous and the not so famous at the time but famous now...

I've grocery shopped with Johnny Depp at least a dozen times...back in the 21 Jump Street days...he wasn't famous yet. If I'd only known.

I once took a sandwich from the restaurant where I worked in Stanley Park down to the Sea Wall. I shared it with the guy on the bench who I thought was just some random homeless guy. Turned out to be Sting in a very ratty outfit.

I've got a million of them...living in Vancouver in the late 80's and early 90's, and working for a well known Canadian at the time, I got to rub elbows with some pretty funky folks.

Don't try to win over the haters. You're not the jackass whisperer."

Scott Stratten

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These are all just wonderful stories.

Don't you think some are terrible stories? Being taken for a child prostitute in a fancy hotel? That's just awful, shocking, and I would think that it constituted criminal activity on the part of both the patron and hotel.

And JIM---for a man of few posts you certainly are one of eloquent words.  Sweet story, lovely memory.

But I thought it was sad that it lasted only a month. I guess in the end, I'm a real romantic.

For better or worse, I don't have any really amazing stories to tell, though I have had some experiences in speaking with people I met over a meal that were good at the time.

Michael aka "Pan"

 

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