We both ordered ten inch pizzas. Hers had mushrooms and onions, mine mushrooms and sausage. That was it. Just two small pizzas. No drinks. Nothing else.
The fair and industrious Trudy handled the finances and evidently tipped generously, because we got a ring of the cow bell and several whoop!s from the staff behind the glass tossing pizzas into the air.
As we were seating ourselves outside in the setting sunlight, a group of runners was doing the same. They had clearly just returned from a run, decked in running gear as they were, some with sweaty caps on their heads. And they had salads. There were eight of them, men an woman in their sixties — and every one of them came out onto the patio with nothing but a salad.
Now, I ate well at lunch today, so I was feeling proud, but holy cow, these folks had just finished a workout and each one of them was eating nothing but a salad. As we were anticipating our carbs, they were foraging on greens and carrots.
“Look,” I whispered to Trudy and nodded in their direction. I no longer felt quite so proud of my lunchtime achievement.
And then… yes then… a waitress came thru the doors carrying a plate stacked with at least 20 pepperoni rolls. She put them squarely in the middle of the runners’ table so they all could easily reach.
It was a huge relief.