Counter Dining seemed like a good idea while it lasted. On a recent trip to Minneapolis, my husband, daughter and I decided to stop at a restaurant well-known for its all-day breakfasts and three flavors of pancake syrups. You know the one. As the hostess escorted us to our table, I noticed a large, suspended sign with an arrow pointing in the opposite direction of where we were heading and it read, "Counter Dining." The arrow pointed to a section of the restaurant obscured behind a dense partition of lush tropical greenery. I couldn’t catch a glimpse of what the plants seemed to be hiding. Counter Dining. It suddenly occurred to me that all curmudgeons and dinner spoilers in the Minneapolis area had a place to gather with others of their kind on the far side of that living, green wall. For all I knew, the designated area had been set aside as part of an obscure A.B.A.A. (Americans with Bad Attitudes Act), a renegade spin off of the A.D.A. (Americans with Disabilities Act). Beyond those plants was a place where any rude adults who had ever upset a business or family dinner could be exiled for meals for the rest of their lives. The Counter Dining area was a place where any controversial topic under the sun, often considered impolite in a civilized world, could be blurted out. It wouldn’t necessarily be a relaxing place to eat, especially for people with touchy digestive systems. Any off-the-wall opinion about religion or politics would be fair play for the whiner diners. With so many negative, counter attitudes sharing the same space, meals would be guaranteed to become complete disasters. Pleasantries and rules of etiquette wouldn’t be necessary in the Counter Dining area. Apologies wouldn’t be required. Unlike our military forces with their many rules of engagement, negative diners would have very few rules of enragement. However, a few outcomes might be predictable. For example, meals would have to be paid for in advance. That’s because so many diners, in absolute disagreement with others, might stop eating, throw down their utensils and dash off without paying their bills. Free-form, heated discussions with no-holds-barred can do that to people. No waiter, waitress or restaurant hostess would be expected to say, "Have a nice day." Their customers’ only response would be a snarl. There’s a good chance that Counter Diners wouldn’t relate to what Richard Whately had to say about them — "Never argue at the dinner table, for the one who is not hungry always gets the best of the argument." It’s much too clever. Counter Diners, banished from their homes and co-workers, would range from the hard core to the seemingly innocent. The worst of these would be guilty of such dinner opinions as, "If I had my way, Rush Limbaugh would be President", or, " This is tuna? What are you, a dolphin killer?" The least of the offenders, parents of teenagers, might also show up for Counter Dining. These are fairly innocent people, unwittingly capable of causing their teens to flee from the dinner table in a flurry of tears by asking, "How was school today?" As we left the restaurant in Minneapolis, I peeked through the foliage and saw what was concealed on the other side. There was nothing more than a counter with stools, set aside for people in a hurry. So much for Counter Dining.
