Noisy Dinners With Large Groups — A Survival Guide

Ok… I can do this!
Just go around the table.
Start on your left. Easy.
Like you’re reading the first line on a page. 

“That was a great [insert name of event prior to dinner], eh?”
They should smile and agree.
They might complain.
If so, commiserate if you agree, or just ask polite questions,
The kind of questions that don’t spark too much controversial thinking.
There! They’ve turned to the one on their other side now.
They’re done with you for the time being.

It’s picking up. More have arrived.
The seats are filling up
With talking.
Murmurmurmur…

Almost everyone is here now. 

Shift your attention slightly right, to the next one in range.
Ask them what they thought of
[insert description of some part of the event prior to dinner].
Maybe what they say is interesting, maybe it’s not.
Pretend that it is.

When they start talking to someone else, shift your attention again.
Pick a question or statement from your pre-approved list.

Repeat…
Repeat…
(Damn, this gets tiring.)
Repeat…

Wait!
Don’t speak up just now. It’s not time… You think.
I think I’m doing ok… Right? I’m doing ok, right?

What a relief — the food’s here.
Comment on how it tastes when you get a chance. 
Remember to look at their face on a regular basis.
Not constantly, but frequently.
Try looking just above the eyes, or between them.
“That looks really good. Maybe I’ll get that one next time.”
It’s less uncomfortable and they probably can’t tell the difference.

Murmurmurmur…
Human chatter mixed with the clanking of metal on ceramic.
You forgot your conversation-friendly earplugs,
And it’s getting so hard to pluck the voice you want
From all that din. 

“Uh huh.” Smile and nod.
You’re not even sure what they really said.
You could only catch a couple words in the sentence
And you’re failing to fill in the blanks.
“Yeah? Really?”
More empty nonsense words,
But they seem to work this time.

Fuck it.
I’m so done with this. 

“Excuse me. Pardon me. Back in a jiffy.”
Make your way to the back.
Slide the latch.  
Shut the world out of your toilet stall.

It’s a lie. You just lied.
You won’t be back in a jiffy — You’re going home.
You lied, and you feel kind of bad… but it’s really ok, right?
They do it all the time through relaxed jaws, 
Showing gleaming teeth.

Oh, come off it.
This is no time for fantasy thinking.
You can’t just walk straight out the front door
From the bathroom.
Your table is between you and the exit.
You’re not going home just yet.

Wait for any others in the room to leave before you exit your stall. 
Look in the mirror over the sink. Take some deep breaths.
You’re fine. You’re doing fine. Everything is fine.
Just show it on the outside!

Rub your face to relieve some tension.
Fidget with the stone you’ve been keeping in your pocket.
Now breathe deeply, and calmly return to your seat.
It’s almost over.
The quiet calm of the evening retirement
Is on the horizon!

No one says anything to you when you get back.
What a relief.
They politely make room for you to get back to your seat.
They’re smiling
But you could swear you saw something off in some side glances.
Do they know? Can they see how weird you are?

You’re back in your place now but
Not saying much anymore.
It’s fine. You did enough. You’re enough.
They have each other to talk to, anyway.
They’re fine.
It’s fine.
You’re fine.
Everything’s fine.

It’s almost over.
Just keep smiling. 

You’ll be home soon.

January 24 – 29, 2025