Waiting for a Table

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Home is a strange place. Pull push comes to mind. It is the beginning when the sun rises and the end, when it sets. It defines humanity. Being homeless is our greatest fear, but we avoid home between these two sun habits.

That is why we go to work, gym, sports and eat out. We even wait 30 minutes for a table. It can be more, because the couple that finished eating 30 minutes ago dread going back to their $4M home with a designer kitchen, better than the restaurant’s.

Restaurants are home away from home. There is someone to serve us. There are little weapons on the table like knives and forks. Glasses remind me of my first trip to Geneva. Why three on the table? My hosts told me they are for white wine, red wine and water.

We are willing to wait for a table because of room noise. We are conscious of it no matter how many people at home. We live under one roof which can be two or five sub-roofs. Restaurants have human noise, although it is subtle. Waiters (servers) have their own Off Off Broadway drama going on. We just love the dexterity, balancing all those dishes on just two arms.

The busier the restaurant the better, a colony of human ants that venture out to find food and break the monotony of the room noise at home.

By: Nonqaba waka Msimang.

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