This person isn't at a table right next to us, but rather is sitting at a table on the restaurant's patio. I'm glad that we are not on the patio this evening because it's warm outside, and that means that we will have to contend with the ravenous fall mosquitoes.
I try to ignore the person who is so close to and yet so far from our table. This person is quite literally on the other side of the window from where we are seated trying to hold a dinner meeting and share some laughs. Even after one beer and some great food, I can see that person is still there, darkened now by the evening shade as the sun sets. He is silhouetted against our table area now, like an unbidden partner at cards, leaning casually on the other side of the glass, close enough that if we spun a chair around and if he could materialize through walls, he'd be eating with us.
I lean closer to the window, wondering why someone would just be hanging around outside for so long without so much as making animated conversation like we are. Honestly, our hands and arms and heads are shaking and flying all over the place as we chat. One of our party even recalls how his hand-wielding conversational skills recently knocked an entire tray of wine glasses out of an unsuspecting waitress's expert balance.
Oh. Well, this is awkward.
Turns out the dude on the other side of the glass is the statue of a golfer that we all walked past on our way into the restaurant. Even worse, the statue isn't sitting at all -- he's just short, and the reflections of the patio tables on the window create the sense that he is dining outside. Yup, our almost-dinner guest is a charming bronze greeter who will still be there through rain, snow, hurricanes, blizzards, heatwaves, and many, many more meals other than just ours.
