The Poop of the Party

It is confirmed… I am not the party boy. I tried… I really tried, but I just could not…

…be made to wait 45 minutes to an hour to be seated for dinner.

This story began at the end of my work day on Thursday. I had another long day facilitating a meeting. The work involves introducing speakers and keeping the meeting flowing from topic to topic, being highly organized and skilled at drawing out questions and having them answered succinctly. (With some of my crowd, that ain’t easy!)

The meeting ended at 4:30. Walking back to the hotel, I was invited to join a small group for dinner. They were thinking of gathering in the hotel lobby at 6:30, then walking to a restaurant about eight blocks away.

After a day of meeting facilitation, and also being on an early biorhythm clock, I countered to suggest that we meet at 5:30 and get to the restaurant by 6pm. I noted that restaurants begin to form long lines for dinner rather early.

My colleagues thought that meeting at 5:30 was too early. We compromised to meet at 6pm.

We met at 6, and with chit-chat and usual delays waiting for a tardy colleague, we didn’t get out of the hotel until 6:10. We walked to the restaurant. We got there at 6:30. We were told, “we don’t have any tables available right now. The wait will be about 45 minutes.” (Hmmm… just as I thought would happen.)

I suggested that we try to find another restaurant. So our small group left and tried to find an alternate place to eat. Unfortunately, there were not any restaurants anywhere close. We ended up returning to that restaurant.

They told us when we got there (again) that the wait would be 20 minutes. I found a chair in the waiting area and sat down. My back was aching as well as my right leg. I was darned tired.

20 minutes turned into 30. My head began to pound with a “need-to-eat-now” headache.

One of my colleagues saw that I was not feeling well. He looked at the menu and suggested that we order appetizers such as roasted Brussels sprouts, chili lime fries, or buffalo wings. Sorry, no — I can’t eat those types of foods — especially when I have a long flight home all day the next day. (They will cause… well, let’s say the results 18 hours after eating foods like that are quite unpleasant.)

I could not wait any longer. I said goodbye to my friends and walked back to the hotel. I found a 7-11 on the way back and purchased a snack that worked for what I needed to get food on my stomach so that I could take aspirin to kill the headache.

I wish that I could manage these types of social activities… eating later in the evening, having a beer or two at the bar before dinner and so forth. I cannot.

My health and incapability to manage these hours and eating times is so much unlike anyone else, I feel quite alone. It is disappointing to be this way, but that is how it is. I am lucky and pleased that my spouse is much like I am — he cannot eat late, either.

Oh well, I tried. But my reputation of being Mr. Pooper of the Party is becoming more well-known.

I cannot wait to get home. I’m tired, and it shows. The love-of-my-life awaits behind my door. Long day of flying will get me into the arms of my one-and-only. (Hmmm… I guess that I am somewhat homesick, too.)

Life is short: accept things you cannot change and live with it.

1 thought on “The Poop of the Party

  1. Accepting things that you can’t change and living with it isn’t an easy thing to do but you just have to make the best of it.

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