One Is The Loneliest Number

This past weekend, I was in The Windy City (and it was!). Based on Tim's recommendation, when I found myself alone for dinner one night, I went to a pizza place near the hotel for some famous deep-dish Chicago style pizza. Yummy!!!!

Thinking I was being smart by going early, I walked in to find the place jammed and had to fight my way up to the "hostess" stand to put my name on the list.

"How many in your party?" she chirped.

"One."

Blink. "One?"

"Yes," I held up one finger thinking the poor thing needed a visual aid.

"One?" she repeated, shouting over the din.

Gee, could you say it any louder? I don't think they heard you at the Sears Tower! One. Is that a problem??????

"Oh." Pause. "There's a fifteen minute wait," she warned as though trying to scare me off. "Maybe twenty."

But I was not about to give up that easily on what Tim had assured me was the best pizza in Chicago. I gave my name and wedged myself into a corner of the bar area amidst all the happy couples and groups and families like the sole skunk aboard the ark.

Five minutes later, I discovered the reason why the woman at the desk had tried to discourage me from putting my name on the list...pity.

Over the loudspeaker, I heard, "Steve, party of four; Carol, party of two." And the speakers weren't only inside the restaurant. Oh no, they were outside as well, echoing names and numbers up and down the block.

Great. Now half the population of greater Chicago would hear, "Ann, party of one" and wonder what kind of a loser was spending a weekend night eating pizza alone. This had better be the best pizza I've ever had in my life!!!

A full thirty minutes later, the announcement came. "Ann, party of two." Two? Was there another Ann? One who had a friend or significant other? I pushed my way up to the desk.

"Um, Ann?" I pointed to myself and the guy manning the microphone nodded. "It's supposed to be only one."

"I know," he whispered, giving me a wink. "It's okay, Just go to the top of the steps and they'll seat you."

Wow That made it official. Where do you go after being given an imaginary date by the wait staff? I'm thinking that's pretty much the bottom rung of the ladder.

As I was finally seated in a corner (I guess they didn't want to give the other diners the idea that it was acceptable to dine alone), the waiter came over and plunked down two sets of silverware and two glasses of water.

"I'm alone," I informed him.

He did a double-take. "Only one?"

Yes. One. Uno. Un. Single. Solitary. I'm willing to break into the musical number "One" from A Chorus Line if that would help you grasp the concept. Again, I held up one finger (and was very proud of myself at this point that it was not the middle one).

"Oh. Okay," he backed away, perplexed, taking the extra items with him.

What was it with these people? Had no one in Chicago ever eaten alone before? Was I committing some crime? Hey, maybe that's what they finally got Capone for.

I finally did get my pizza, and a to go box, unasked, for the leftovers. Which was a good thing, because I was probably going to be having it for lunch the next day instead of the hot dog I was hoping for because I was alone. Single. Solitary. One.