Table Jumpers: What Do You Do?
by Michael Y. Park
on 01/31/13 at 09:00 AM
Recently, three of us went out to a much ballyhooed Brooklyn restaurant that's become as famous for its crowds and tightly packed tables as it is for its cuisine. As expected on a weekend night, there was quite a line and the hostess was upfront about the wait. (She told our leader it was a 90-minute wait. Our leader, in turn, knowing I wouldn't have waited that long packed into a mob of people for any meal, told me it was an hour.)
The hour passed. Our third member, an out-of-town visitor who'd been working too hard all day to grab a bite, was ready to pass out. Another 50 minutes passed. Finally, the hostess told us a table had opened up and was being cleared for us. The skies parted and a ray of celestial light shone through to show us the promised land.
But instead of watching the busboys wipe down our table, we watched helplessly as a woman in red--part of a group that we'd noticed arrived after us--pushed her way to the table, had a few words with some of the staff, and sat down, followed by her two male friends. The hostess, looking totally at a loss at what to do, avoided meeting our befuddled and increasingly annoyed glances. Only when we tracked her down a