People.

Have you ever been sitting at a restaurant and just observed the people around you? It's an excellent pass time!Provided you don't get caught.

I was at one of these heavily decadent lunches, with the city's famous, the creme de la creme of high society (Yes, I was wondering why I was there as well.) My parents had dragged me to this affair because I couldn't possibly want to stay home and watch My Best Friend's Wedding for the fifth time. According to them anyway. Being thoroughly bored, I began to observe the guests and attempt to analyse them. I shall not use the real names of the individuals, for reasons of anonymity of course. And the fact that I don't know their real names.

Here goes.


"Two tables down Mum. The one with the brat. On the left. Your other left!" I whispered trying to direct my mother's attention to a group of people. "Nikki stop prodding my shoulder!" scolded my mother, as she turned back to the person with whom she was conversing. I walked over to a vacant chair, still holding what appeared to be my third glass of coke. So far this party was as interesting as mouldy bread. Until now. I sat down, looking over at the table I had been watching earlier. Two men, of a substantial build, were exchanging a polite word every ten minutes, probably to avoid an awkward silence. One of them, wearing a deafeningly loud hula shirt and cargo pants, took majestic swigs from his pint as he swayed slightly to the beat of the music. The other man, a dead ringer for Robert Downey Jr, sat placidly looking quite disinterested. I try not to stereotype people, but this guy looked like he could rattle of the life history of Jean Paul Satre including his golf handicap (No I don't know who Jean Paul Satre is either but he seemed like someone Mr.Downey II would know about)


Of the two women, the slightly more statuesque one was sipping an extremely tropical looking drink and looking quite pleased with life. Her short blond pixie cut coupled a turquoise halter dress, oddly made her look older than she probably was.


The other woman seemed more calm but in a harassed way. Her mousy brown curls fell gently over her forehead as she carefully sipped a glass of white wine. She looked like she had no reason to exchange pleasantries with anyone other than herself. Her gaze was transfixed on a tiny being. Swinging around the leg of the table, giggling all the way, her fairy like mane seemed to twirl right along with her. She stopped for a moment to catch her breathe and give her mother a quick peck on the hand, then heartlessly forgot the world around her once more.
I looked at the woman. There was something about her. Her emotion was silent. Hidden from even her companions who were engaged in banter including her in it every now and again.


By now my aunt had strolled over to where I was perched, obviously a little giggly from the excess of vodka. "Is it possible for someone to be happy but at the same time not be happy?" I asked but even as I said it, I was quite sure she wouldn't get it. I barely got it. To my disbelief, my aunt looked at my subject of observation and said "She's not happy. But she's not unhappy about it." And with those few words, I saw the young lady in a new light.

Shoot, who knew vodka could make you smarter.