Dillan DiGiovanni ate alone in a bar during March Madness and lived to tell about it.
Going out to eat alone is easy for some, and a challenge for others. It’s never usually an issue for me when I’m home, but eating alone in a bar, in a strange Connecticut town during March Madness definitely tested me.
I recently had the opportunity to get away from it all and travel to lovely Manchester, CT to give some talks at UCONN. I checked into my little, privately-owned hotel around 4pm. Let me tell you, this place was something else. I really saw the personal touches of someone who loved what he owned. It was decorated with more sports-related memorabilia than I could count. Definitely a very different experience from my stays at larger chain hotels.
After settling in, it was soon dinnertime and I did a quick Google search of nearby places to eat. I’m in the midst of a cleanse, so I was looking for a spot that would have something I could get. I’m fortunate the cleanse included meat, and while I knew it wasn’t going to be free-range, grass-fed, organic beef, I figured beggars can’t be choosers, right?
I drove across the street to a sports bar, parked my smartcar, got out and felt that little tremor of fear when I remembered I was walking in there to eat alone.
And then I remembered it was March Madness.
And then I remembered I was 30 minutes away from the University of Connecticut.
The place was going to be packed and here I was walking in alone. All by my lonesome. Walking into a bar as a guy, alone, during March Madness? The whole point of March Madness is to sit with your buddies, drink beer, eat peanuts or popcorn and trash each others’ teams, right?! It’s MADNESS to do it any other way!! I was signing up to lose man points, bigtime. Nevermind that I have no interest in college basketball, whatsoever. Go Sox!
Why are we afraid to be seen out alone in public? What is intimidating about it? Why does it matter?
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I swallowed a bit and walked up to the door. I noticed a few heads through the plate-glass window, saw way too many televisions and actually walked back to my car. I stood beside it and contemplated why I was so nervous to enter the bar alone. Yes, it would be full of people, many of them men. Yes, they’d be more invested in watching and cheering on their team than thinking about me and why I was sitting by myself.
Yes, they would probably notice me, stare at me a little, wonder why I was alone and then go back to watching the game. And, if anything, they’d wonder why they heck I walked up the door twice!
I entered the bar and asked a waitress where I could sit. The bar was indeed packed full of rowdy people. So much for sidling up and sitting there by myself. I instead chose a tall bar table with a few chairs close to the door. The waitress came over, asked what I needed to drink (water) and I pulled out my phone. I need to ask, because my brain is so warped from social media and technology, what did we do before smartphones? I can’t remember. I am no spring chicken, but I can’t remember sitting with people or alone at a table and at least one head not being bent forward in “the position” of scrolling and reading. Well, in this case, it saved me.
Feeling incredibly self-conscious, I sat there and scrolled through facebook. Then instagram. Checked my email. Checked twitter. Back to facebook. I felt plugged in and connected despite sitting all alone in a crowded bar full of strangers. Then I posted this status:
“You wanna talk about fearless? Try walking into a huge bar full of dudes watching March Madness. Alone. To eat dinner by yourself whilst traveling.#nohashtagforthismoment”
Not the most profound words I’ve ever uttered. But it got about 70 likes in mere hours, and a long thread of comments and kudos. It seemed that sitting alone, or even considering it, resonated with many people.
The popularity of the post intrigued me. The comments ranged from “goo, Dillan!” to a line of hashtags, “#nofear #brave #secure.”
Why are we afraid to be seen out alone in public? What is intimidating about it? Why does it matter? It was funny to me how nervous and uncomfortable I was, since I encouraged my Fearless Living virtual group participants to try this exercise last year and always recommend it to my clients as an exercise in building character and confidence. I walk my talk and don’t expect my folks to do anything I don’t do, myself. It’s easier to practice things like this on your home turf, where you’re somewhat comfortable. Doing it in a strange town, is something else entirely.
It seems the actual walking into a strange place isn’t the hard part, it’s the sitting down and having to sit with what others will think of us.
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It seems the actual walking into a strange place isn’t the hard part, it’s the sitting down and having to sit with what others will think of us. No matter how many times we tell ourselves it doesn’t matter, somehow we think it does. Or we still feel that way. It can be uncomfortable to act outside of social norms and behaviors, despite knowing that everyone, everyone, shares our same hopes, fears, dreams and insecurities.
As I sat at that table, my fears and discomfort lessened as the minutes passed. After the initial hurdle of walking in, making myself seen, and sitting there for a while I realized no one was really interested in me or what I was doing. Yes, people looked. And then they looked away. They were on dates, meeting with friends or really invested in the UCONN basketball game on multiple televisions. So, I relaxed and became more attuned to the free people-watching that was available to me.
The only person of color in a sea of white faces was stationed at the table next to me with one open beer bottle. He was moving about the room, taking in the various horse and greyhound races on the screen. I celebrated his ability to spend time by himself and tried not to judge him for betting on animal races.
There were various couples seated around the bar, some of whom looked absolutely miserable.
I heard the trio of pals to my left, talking about the surgery one of them had just had on his knee.
The roar and laughter subsided during halftime and people ate and drank and went about their business.
It became just a room. A room filled with people celebrating friendship, tolerating the company of others, enjoying solitude and for the servers, another night working to earn money to pay their bills. It wasn’t a leering crowd of people out to get me. It wasn’t a firing squad of peers waiting to poke and taunt me for being a loser or challenge my masculinity because I had to eat alone while traveling for work.
As I sat at that table, my fears and discomfort lessened. After the initial hurdle of walking in, making myself seen, and sitting there for a while I realized no one was really interested in me or what I was doing.
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In fact, I wondered if they were thinking the exact opposite and considering how much courage it took to enter a bar, alone, and eat in solitude when it was packed to the gills.
Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t. It certainly didn’t matter to me after 10 minutes passed and it is less likely to matter ever again in the future.
When I realized this, I settled down, cut my massive hamburger in half and chewed each delicious bite slowly. I was in no rush. There was no need to shove it down and run out the door.
photo courtesy of the author
Follow Dillan at @dillandigi on twitter and @dillandigi on instagram.
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