As a result of COVID, many restaurants have installed plastic pods outside so that diners can hopefully eat in relative safety. One benefit of these pods, which look like transparent igloos, is that they allow semi-private conversations. They are only semi-private because those dining in these mini-bubbles remain in public view, like items on display in Macy’s storefront windows. The substance of the conversations, however, is private as the reasonably thick plastic keeps even the most notorious nosy nudniks from eavesdropping. The plastic pods may not be as private as a wedding day yichud room but they certainly are more private than (the now outdated) phone booth.
Since conversations in the plastic pods are plainly visible by other diners and passersby, it would not be surprising for some to try to read lips and/or body language. Is the red-faced speaker with bulging veins angry or just passionate? Is the watery-eyed listener crying tears of joy or sadness? It can be very difficult to discern the answers to these questions when the pod performances are like silent films without subtitles. This naturally creates curiosity among observers who would love to be a fly on the wall (or a gnat in the pod).
In hopes of partially satisfying such curiosity, but without betraying the confidence of pod participants, below are some purely fictional examples of conversations that may be had in the restaurant bubbles:
Daughter: “Dad, Shlomo and I are planning to get married this year.”
Father: “Are you kidding me? You’ve been dating for only two weeks.”
Daughter: “But we’re in love and we just want to be together.”
Father: “No, no, no. You’re not ready. I absolutely, positively forbid it!”
Daughter: “But if we get married now, during Covid, it will be much cheaper.”
Father: “Well, in that case, you have my blessing.”
***
Son: “Mom, I’m really unhappy with my Chanukah presents this year?”
Mother: “I’m so sorry tatele, what’s wrong with them?”
Son: “You got me books!”
Mother: “What’s wrong with reading?”
Son: “They’re textbooks.”
***
Son: “Dad, I really don’t want to go to shul this shabbos?”
Father: “Why not?”
Son: “Because davening outside in 30-degree weather is not my idea of fun.”
Father: “Well, shul is not supposed to be fun.”
Son: “What’s it supposed to be?”
Father: “A spiritually moving experience that sends a shiver down your spine.”
Son: “In 30-degree weather, the only part I get is the shiver.”
***
Husband: “Honey, my parents would like to visit tomorrow. Perhaps we can have dinner on the patio.”
Wife: “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
Husband: “Why? Are you worried about giving Covid?”
Wife: “No.”
Husband: “Then what’s the problem?”
Wife: “The last time I saw your parents, your father called me lazy and your mother called me crazy.”
Husband: “They were just joking.”
Wife: “Really, how do you know?”
Husband: “Because, behind your back, they never call you lazy or crazy. They call you obnoxious and selfish.”
***
Granddaughter: “Bubbie, when you die, do you want to be buried right next to Zaide?”
Grandmother: “Yes, of course I do.”
Granddaughter: “Are you sure?”
Grandmother: “Yes, I’m sure. Why do you ask such a question?”
Granddaughter: “Because you said that when Zaide is sleeping, his snoring is so loud that it could wake the dead.”
Grandmother: “Let’s hope that‘s true.”
***
Daughter: “Ima, can you please teach me the secret to your famous cholent?”
Mother: “Of course, my sweetie. The secret is incredibly simple, anyone can do it.”
Daughter: “This is so exciting. What is it?”
Mother: “Ask Bubbie to make her cholent and surreptitiously drop it off right before Shabbos. Then, you shamelessly take all of the credit.”
Daughter: “Ima, you are so wise.”
***
Son: “Aba, how does the shul choose who will serve as gabbai on Shabbos morning?”
Father: “Believe it or not, the list of qualified gabbai candidates is relatively short.”
Son: What makes someone qualified to be a gabbai?
Father: “You must be a glutton for punishment.”
***
Congregant: “Rabbi, how long should one wait between eating fleishig and milchig?”
Rabbi: “The custom varies but for many a minimum of three hours is required.”
Congregant: “And how long should one wait between eating fleishig and pareve?”
Rabbi: “In that case, no waiting is required. Pareve means that it contains no milk or meat.”
Congregant: “Oh, I thought pareve means a mediocre dessert?
Rabbi: Practically speaking, it does.”
***
Mother: “Malky, the shadchan called. She knows you like guys who are really special and one-of-a-kind so she thinks she has someone perfect for you.”
Daughter: “Is he obscenely rich?”
Mother: “No.”
Daughter: “Impossibly handsome?”
Mother: “No.”
Daughter: “Mind-bogglingly brilliant?”
Mother: “No.”
Daughter: “Then what is he?”
Mother: “He is jaw-droppingly average.”
Final thought: Did you hear about the soulmates who met in a restaurant plastic bubble? They were like two peas in a pod.
By Jon Kranz
