It can get pretty crowded in the bar, Friday night’s at the Ringside, one of Portland’s older steakhouses (and still one of the best). I met E there after my spa retreat last night.
We were waiting in the little dark hallway at the entrance to the bar when a table opened up. The people in front of us took it. There were a few people behind us in line.
People would come up to the doorway, take a look in to see how the bar looked, then decide whether to wait in line or try someplace else.
Some big young kid in his 20s stuck his head in, then walked into the bar. I thought that was odd, but perhaps he was looking for someone who was already there. Apparently not, as he just stood there, taking up space in a small bar.
Three other people came into the bar, they all hugged and stood around. A table opened up and they sat down.
“This I have to say something about,” said E. He walked over to the group to let them know they had poached our table. Did they apologize, offer to get up and give us the table? No. The kid just said it was first come, first serve and they were there first. He looked like he was about to get up and fight E.
E turned to the older gentleman in the foursome and said, “Are these your kids?” The man said nothing, would not even look E in the eye.
“Good job,” E said. And walked away.