I'm tired of getting the kiddie treatment when I go out to eat.
The restaurant chains who routinely handle rowdier crowds aren't the ones at fault - it's the smaller, neighborhood places that seem to roll their eyes at any person who looks like they might fall in the 18 to 22 set.
We get curt service and the worst seating, and heaven forbid we should ask for a booth and not a table. Why the bad rap? In small groups, we are polite and respectful, always appreciative of The Non-Dining-Hall Meal.
Maybe part of it is ageism from the wait staff; younger parties mean lower tips. It's understandable. Most of us aren't pulling in a hefty salary, but we still have a right to spend where we choose.
But I think the real problem comes from the monstrous dining disaster called "The Group Dinner." I always know not to expect a grand dining experience when I go out to eat with a bunch of friends my own age.
Giant group dinners are nearly impossible to organize if you take your food seriously, so I avoid going out in groups of six or more. Reservations might help the restaurant prepare, but when half the party arrives fashionably late, the host or hostess will often wait until everyone gets there before seating you.
And if you didn't make reservations, the endless shuffle of chairs and added seats is disruptive to everyone. You'll soon notice that the waiter or waitress' patience has worn thin and their charming veneer has disappeared faster than you can say "Caesar salad."
Then the seating arrangements become a logistical nightmare. If you sit in the middle of the table, people talk over you and you get elbowed right and left. If you sit on the edge of the group, you can't hear the discussion and are likely to splinter off with the person across from you, who's also bitter about being left out. This does not make for sparkling conversation.
The ordering process always takes an unnecessarily long time, making the server reluctant to take special requests. Someone inevitably tries to hit on or pick a fight with the waiter, and when that ends with predictable results, you can only pray that your meal doesn't come out of the kitchen with a little something special added.
The meals themselves generally arrive in staggered increments and everyone wonders if they can eat or if they should wait for the others' meals to arrive. Modern etiquette stipulates that if others are waiting for their dish but yours is already in front of you, you may eat if they encourage you to dig in. But from personal experience, no one ever really means it.
And then, God save us all, the bill arrives. I call this the Rule of Checkonomics: In settling the check, half the number of entrees consumed multiplied by the number of mathematically inept people at the table will be added to your share, and you will always overpay - unless you're the jerk who orders the most expensive thing on the menu with an appetizer and two sodas, and insists that the bill be split evenly.
When I leave the restaurant after an outing like that, I feel like impaling myself with complimentary toothpicks as penance for the egregious crimes against restaurant etiquette we've committed. At least they didn't give us booster seats or bibs.
Eating with friends is one of the most enjoyable ways to spend an evening. But in this case, more does not mean merrier.
The attention should be on the food and the friends. If there's chaos at the table and you can't focus on either, just stay at home and order in.
Kate Peck is a senior majoring in English. She can be reached at katherine.peck@tufts.edu.
