If there's anything I hate more than not being able to eat out at a restaurant, it's eating outside. I'm a human furnace. Sweating into my fajita skillet in a Friday's parking lot is neither sanitary nor appetizing. I hate eating outside and it is my strong belief that most people fake-enjoy their meals in the heat.
I promised my father that I'd take him out to eat some time after Father's Day, a gift I made up on the fly with no card. We went to this local BBQ joint, Texas Roadhouse, to fulfill my obligation. It's probably important to mention that my Dad is the mayor of the whole state of New Jersey. Just on the way to our table, he stopped to talk to three different tables while they were eating because he doesn't comprehend social cues. Neither did the multiple families who stopped at our table during our meal. Listening to every Dick and Jane being like "Huuahh right, how fricken great does it feel to get out of the house?!". Get the fuck away from me and let me try to enjoy this Awesome Blossom. Which by the way, is not so awesome when you're simultaneously combating back sweat shirt. I could hardly take my shirt off to relieve the situation. Everyone would have lost their appetite, including myself.
What's so bad about eating home anyway? There's no awkward empty air, no need to feel like have to appease anyone. It's just you, your food, your tv and the 1970s dinner tray that you stole from your grandparent's house. Oh and air conditioning. Your only objectives are enjoying your dinner and entertaining yourself. How does it get better than that? Well, strip club buffets I guess, but that's a double no-no right now.
I heard that Adam Silver said the NBA restart is in jeopardy barring a second wave. We need to take every precaution to secure the sports resurrection. Just spitballing here, but if were trying to budget our human interactions, my vote is to cut outdoor dining and return to strictly takeout.
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