Memoir Piece - Decisions, Decisions
Decision making is such a difficult undertaking for some people. I recall a scene in an Indian restaurant in Phuket, Thailand in May 2008 where a fellow traveller experienced great difficulty arriving at a dining decision.
I was at that time enjoying a meal and engaging in what we writers call, - people watching. Studying human behaviour is both fascinating and instructive. It provides great fodder for the writer within.
A German woman entered the restaurant and was immediately seated at the next table. She then spent almost fifteen minutes ordering from the menu in an attempt to avoid ‘spicy food.’ I wondered if she had merely stumbled into the restaurant, without noticing that it served Indian cuisine? She laboriously worked her way through the extensive menu, exhausting the efforts of two waiters, before finally settling on her order.
Displaying admirable patience and understanding the waiting staff had guided the hesitant diner towards some sort of decision making. They were a tag team of sorts, changing when the dithering diner slipped into one of her several, silent pondering poses. There was to be no spice in her life!
I found myself unable to remain long enough to see if the selections she eventually arrived at, met the stringent criteria she had set. I left somewhat dissatisfied with the lack of closure to my observations. As I returned to the bustling street, I was left only to speculate. But I had fun with the possibilities.
At breakfast the next morning I observed a woman travelling with her personal tube of Vegemite. I wonder where it fits along side fried rice and other Thai breakfast options?
Decisions, such a part of living, such a part of writing…
I was at that time enjoying a meal and engaging in what we writers call, - people watching. Studying human behaviour is both fascinating and instructive. It provides great fodder for the writer within.
A German woman entered the restaurant and was immediately seated at the next table. She then spent almost fifteen minutes ordering from the menu in an attempt to avoid ‘spicy food.’ I wondered if she had merely stumbled into the restaurant, without noticing that it served Indian cuisine? She laboriously worked her way through the extensive menu, exhausting the efforts of two waiters, before finally settling on her order.
Displaying admirable patience and understanding the waiting staff had guided the hesitant diner towards some sort of decision making. They were a tag team of sorts, changing when the dithering diner slipped into one of her several, silent pondering poses. There was to be no spice in her life!
I found myself unable to remain long enough to see if the selections she eventually arrived at, met the stringent criteria she had set. I left somewhat dissatisfied with the lack of closure to my observations. As I returned to the bustling street, I was left only to speculate. But I had fun with the possibilities.
At breakfast the next morning I observed a woman travelling with her personal tube of Vegemite. I wonder where it fits along side fried rice and other Thai breakfast options?
Decisions, such a part of living, such a part of writing…
Sometimes you wonder, what's the point? It's better for some people to just play it safe and eat American in a Hilton or find a MacDonalds. I have to admit that when it was necessary, I did that.
ReplyDeleteBonnie
Great to have you back for MM!
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