Solitary pursuits

Today, I had an alone day. I went to lunch alone, just me and my Santa Fe chicken pizza, a Mountain Dew, and the Mill on the Floss. Seated next to me were several women with children, namely a little boy who decided lunchtime was the right time for throwing his toys on the ground. Or at me. You know, whatever. When they would land closer to me than to the owners of the child, I would look up from my book and make a move to pick it up for them, prompting apologies and the like. Now, perhaps it was due to all the cheese, but I was actually pretty mellow about the whole experience, and the apologies were unnecessary. Toward the end of the meal, another toy landed in my vicinity and I went to pick it up, and the woman apologized again as she picked it up, saying, "I'm so sorry to interrupt your peaceful lunch! I'm jealous actually." I just smiled and went back to my book, but the thought stayed with me. Usually women avoid the solitary lunch because what does it say about their lives? (In general, I find men are less paranoid about this.) I've always enjoyed eating alone, as long as I have quality reading material and I don't get one of those annoying waiters who ignores you because he thinks he's not going to get much of a tip (Fabio was excellent today), but I never thought that anyone would be jealous of me. It was kind of a nice thought, actually.

And then I finally saw Pirates of the Caribbean 2. Also alone, but this time the teenage boy who wouldn't shut up somehow evaporated my mellowness. Go figure.