One of my favorite things to do when I was a teenager was to head out on a Friday or Saturday night to the mall or a movie with a friend or two or three, and then go eat at some chain restaurant, like Chili's, Ruby Tuesday, TGI Friday's, or O'Charley's. Granted, this was the late 1990s and early 2000s, before we had smartphones, but what I enjoyed most about those nights was that we just... hung out.
We ate our burgers and chicken tenders, but we weren't necessarily there for the meals. I remember the jokes, conversations, confessions, and important life decisions we made in those wooden booths more than I remember the actual food. Sometimes, we'd stay for hours, maybe ordering more drinks or a dessert. Often, we were some of the last people there before the place shut down for the night. We were always gracious to our servers, and we were sure to tip them generously for putting up with us because we all worked in restaurants and retail shops, too, and understood how it was. They never rushed us either.
Earlier today I wrote an article about how Sarah Huckabee Sanders was kicked out of a restaurant after she ate and paid her bill. While the reason was confirmed political — the leftists employees in the place felt "threatened" by her presence — I saw a lot of people on social media trying to water the story down by saying that the real reason why she was kicked out was probably because she'd already eaten and was lingering at the table.
Related: Why Can't Sarah Huckabee Sanders Just Enjoy a Nice Meal? (Hint: Deranged Leftists)
Again, the restaurant itself proved that wasn't true, but even if it were, so what? When did dining out become so... transactional? These days, we go to restaurants, and the staff rushes us to order quickly. Once we do order, we complain when the food isn't out in 10 minutes or less. Somehow, we eat quickly, even when some of us are scrolling on our phones, and then there's the check and boom, we're out of there.
What happened to just going out and enjoying each other's company or the atmosphere? I know there are exceptions. Sometimes, you're on a lunch break. Sometimes, you have other places to be that day. And sometimes, though I find this rare these days, the restaurant is so crowded that you want to be respectful of the server's income (more bodies equals more tips) and the other patrons' time.
I'm definitely not shaming anyone — I'm guilty of it myself — but I don't think it really hit me how much things have changed until I started traveling abroad more.
In Costa Rica, where I've spent a lot of time in recent years and where it feels like there's little mom and pop restaurants — or sodas, as they call them — on every corner, the dining out experience is completely different.
The time between when a server takes your order and you actually receive your food can vary. More often than not, your food is cooked to order. There's usually some sort of entertainment, formal or informal. There's a lot of live music, especially in more touristy areas, or maybe a TV with a soccer game playing or an incredible view of the ocean, mountains, or the jungle. Like many of the houses, a lot of the dining areas in restaurants are completely open to the outside, so even if there's no view or live music, it's usually ripe for people or wildlife watching.
Servers don't bother you as much as they do here. I took my aunt out for her birthday a few months ago, and I swear our waitress asked if we needed anything every five minutes. But they don't completely abandon you either. Most of the time, they won't bring you your check unless you ask for it because doing so before you're ready is considered rude. They don't want to rush you. But tipping is not necessarily the norm there, so they're going to get paid no matter how long you stay. And after Costa Ricans eat, they typically sit around and chitchat or enjoy the music or the views or the soccer game or the people watching, sometimes for hours.
It took me a while to get used to this, I'll admit, but once I did, I loved it. I had a friend who I spent a lot of time with there during some of my initial trips, and he and I really got to know each other during those meals and the time we spent hanging out after them. After two decades or so, I had rediscovered the art of going out to dinner and simply hanging out without being in a rush.
One day, he and I went to a Costa Rican town called Tamarindo. If you're not familiar with it, it's a surfing hotspot. It's also home to, seemingly, just as many people from the United States as Costa Ricans. For this reason, the locals often call it "Tamagringo."
The first night we were there, we'd driven a long way, and we were both exhausted (and I had COVID but didn't realize it at the time), but we decided to grab some dinner before heading to the condo we'd rented. We picked a restaurant on the beach, where there was a young woman singing cover songs and the sun was setting, and we must have stayed there for three hours, despite our exhaustion. We listened to the music, had drinks, told each other stories, made plans, and cracked jokes.
Every once in a while, I'd look around and notice that we were surrounded by all new people. We must have sat through two or three rounds of turnover. That's because my friend was the only Costa Rican in the place. The other folks from the U.S., mostly tourists, sat down, ate, and left quickly. "Tamagringo," indeed, I thought to myself.
Life in general is so laid back there, and I've gotten so used to that in recent years, that when I am back home in the U.S. and go out to eat with someone, it's a shock to my system when the other person I'm with finishes their meal and is ready to go within an hour.
Maybe it's just me. But it takes me back to those days of my youth. I miss just hanging out and not being in a hurry all the time. Maybe we need a little more of that in our culture again. Maybe we need to sometimes remember that everything isn't a sprint — especially a simple dinner out with a friend.
