On second thought, I'll be ordering 'to go'

Well, restaurants will soon be opening up, but in most places - or most places where I'd want to live - there'll be social distancing in place. Only so many people allowed in the dining room at any one time.

I don't especially enjoy eating in a restaurant that's packed to the gills, especially if it's a place with crowded-together seating. The restaurant tends to be unenjoyably noisy. And when you're going or coming, if it's a place with crammed in tables, you always have to be worry about bumping into the next table and knocking over a glass of wine. 

But if there's no one there? Well, it's always a bit unsettling to be in a place that's half empty. 

When it's half empty, you end up asking yourself what's wrong with the place. What do the other diners - the non-diner others - know that you don't? Did you miss the Yelp review about bad fish, a waiter spitting in a plate? And if it's a favorite place that's empty, you'll probably have a little pre-boo-hoo going on. Is my favorite place about to close?

It may be a while before I'm in a restaurant for any reason other than picking up some take-home, but it will be interesting to see how the limits on diners-in will be handled.

The Inn at Little Washington in Virginia - which even a non-foodie like me recognizes as an "it" place (or a joint that was an "it" place at one point in time; it may still be: Michelin 3 stars!) - thinks they've come up with a solution. When they open up for dinner in a few weeks, they don't want diners to be weirded up by the half empty/half full environment being mandated by the government. Such a bad vibe!

Instead of letting tables sit vacant, the whimsical chef plans to outfit his dining rooms with mannequins. That’s right, life-size human dolls—kind of like that scene in Home Alone when Kevin throws a mannequin holiday party to fool the burglars. The chef (who majored in drama in college) has been working with Shirlington’s Signature Theatre to get the faux humans costumed in 1940s-era garb. Servers will be instructed to pour them wine and to ask them about their evening. Here’s hoping the actual diners don’t have any doll phobias. (Source: The Washingtonian)

Just take a look at those, ahem, couples. 

Table One: he's staring at his plate; she's staring into space.

I'm sure I'd find it really dated now, but my husband and I used to enjoy the film "Two for the Road", which follows the meeting, courtship, marriage, and divorce of a British couple, Joanna (Audrey Hepburn) and Mark (Albert Finney).  Early on, they're sitting in a restaurant near a couple that looks a bit like the duo at Table One. Joanna asks Mark, "What do you call a couple like that?" Mark's answer: "Married."

Looks like they could both do with a good stiff drink.

So much for the couple at Table One making for a more enjoyable dining experience.

Then there's the couple right behind them, at Table Two.

He looks like a gumshoe grilling a dame about a murder. And it looks like he's got her figured for the stone-cold killer. And what's with the fedora on the table? Come on! You don't need to know much of anything that, if this were a real couple - and not a gumshoe grilling a dame, which I don't think they're intended to represent - that hat would have been checked with the hat-check girl. Sheesh!

While the male dolls' clothing does look 40-ish, I think the female dolls' outfits looks more 50-ish. I know that by the late 40's, clothing was pulling out of the war-austerity look (which, by the way, I consider absolutely attractive and chic) and into longer, more flowing skirts, etc. Still, those dresses don't say 1940's to me. 

In any event, I suppose it could be worse. They could be putting clown dolls in those chairs. Or skeletons. 

On second thought, I think I'd rather see skeletons. 

Chef Patrick O'Connell isn't stopping with the dummy-diners. 

And he has created custom-made masks bearing Marilyn Monroe smiles and George Washington chins.

I'm not sure whether those masks are going on the mannequins, or whether they'll be given to the diners as a souvenir, or an amuse bouche (only one suitable for taking home, not nibbling on). And while I know what a Marilyn Monroe smile might look like, what the heck is a George Washington chin???

“I think it would do people a world of good to reduce their anxiety level when they come out to a place which is still unaffected, because if you watch your television, you think that there isn’t such a place under a bubble,” says O’Connell. 

Maybe it's just me, but sitting amid tables occupied by mannequins would do nothing to reduce my anxiety level.  Especially when the waiter I'm trying to flag down is engaging those mannequins in a convo about how they're evening is going. 

Perhaps the restaurant should consider removing the COVID-19 excessive tables and chairs entirely. Or take out the chairs, but put some sort of decoration on the table: a fruit bowl (1940's wax fruit, anyone?), some nice fresh flowers, a large replica of George Washington's chin so that we can see what it looks like...

Oh, dear. As we manage our way out of the present situation - slowly and none-to-surely - there'll be plenty of attempts to reduce anxiety levels. Here's hoping some of them work a bit better than this one.