pasta surprise

This past Sunday night, Mike and I went out to the Old Spaghetti Factory for dinner.

Just about every inch of the place was decorated in lights, ornaments, greenery, and Santas for the impending holiday, and several of the staff remarked to us how slammed they’d been with diners shortly before we arrived. We were lucky to have to wait only a few minutes for a cozy table tucked beneath the staircase. Mike laughed when I told him I felt a bit like Harry Potter having Christmas dinner.

The place was loud, however, and quite dark. We had to pull our small, Tiffany-style lamp to the center of the table to make out the menus, and when our waiter introduced himself, I heard “Doug” while Mike heard “Devon.” (We inquired about the discrepancy the next time we saw him; Mike was right.) Devon was a delight. He was personable and helpful and seemed to genuinely enjoy his interactions with us.

When I kept asking questions about ingredients in one of the dishes, Mike suggested that I order the item contingent upon there being no pork or veal in it, and also giving Devon a back-up in case the first item didn’t meet my requirements. It was a good plan. Not only did I end up with a dinner I thoroughly enjoyed, I also had the pleasure of anticipation: I didn’t know which of the two dishes was coming out to me. Devon apologized for not getting back to me about the order, but I actually really enjoyed the surprise.

Watching Devon and Mike interact so easily with one another, I also found myself jumping in to surprise myself. Mike and I had already speculated that Devon was probably one of the “cool kids”—he’s a student at PSU and described how he falls easily into leadership roles pretty much wherever he goes. So I decided to ask if he’s a reader. Initially, he said that he wasn’t, but when I told him why I was asking—that I’m a writer and that I wanted to give him a copy of one of my books in hopes that he would enjoy it and spread the word—he was enthusiastic about the idea. More than that, he seemed honestly impressed to meet a writer. That of course flustered me, because I am so not cool. Mike even dove in to talk about how socially awkward writers can be, and then added that I’m “not so bad.” So there was that, at least.

Devon happily took my card and promised to give the book a try.

So I had a nice surprise with the delicious pasta, and a nice surprise when I took a chance, too. I mean, you’d think that in offering to give a funny adventure book to a stranger that I wouldn’t be so shy, but it’s because it’s my book with my name on it that I get awkward and unsure. This time it worked out—and maybe not so coincidentally, I started reading Jia Jiang’s Rejection Proof this morning.

Creative Commons photo: Comfort Food by Eugene Kim.