My sister and I met up for lunch last week at our favorite restaurant in Chicago, Lula Cafe. It’s one of those places where you could eat at any time of day, and it will be perfect. They had just won a James Beard award (Go, Lula!), so we expected there to be a wait, and there was…two hours. It was Juneteenth, and the weather was glorious, so we couldn’t blame them. We opted for the bar, which is first come, first served, and scoured the scene for potential spots. I looked for obvious “done with my meal” signs— empty plates, a half-finished drink, or a check sitting waiting to be signed.
My sister pulled me close, “This whole thing makes me so anxious,” she said. “What whole thing?” I asked. This question was completely rhetorical as we are twins. I knew exactly what she meant. Sonja (twin) is the world’s nicest and kindest person. She is like Gus Gus, the mouse in Cinderella who bathes in a raindrop and helps others get dressed with the help of her friends, who are twee little birdies. I, on the other hand, am an alley rat feasting on trash and causing trouble in people’s fenced-in yards. It has been this way since we met in the womb. A first-come, seat-yourself situation, where you have to exert your own authority and potentially look like an asshole, is her nightmare; however, it is where an alley rat thrives.
“I got this,” I said to her. We were the first patrons in the bar area, so I was very comfortable with the fact that we would be the next party to be seated. Another couple sidled up behind us. I smiled at them to be nice and clearly let them know we were next. They smiled back at me, which meant they were abiding by our non-verbal agreement. A few moments later, a man stood up from the bar and went to the bathroom. His dining companion was paying the check. Sonja and I tried to give the man his space as we had firmly established our “rights” to the seats. She didn’t want me breathing down his neck, which I happily would have done but tried to respect her wishes. Just then, two women sauntered up behind the man paying. One of the women, in a very colorful sundress, asked if he was about to leave, and an exchange happened. I couldn’t fully track it as a waiter came by, but it was indicative of a backdoor agreement being made. We were being robbed. Sonja nudged me, “See!”
I haven’t let anyone steal a spot from me since the seventh grade when the new girl sat next to my boyfriend at Leora Shaller’s Bat Mitzvah. He dumped me after the Haftorah and started dating the new girl instead. Bastard. I walked over to the colorful sundress and her friend — they looked so giddy about their impending seating. I had to stop the madness. Was I in the wrong? Absolutely not. This is just proper bar etiquette. These are the rules that make the earth spin on its axis. Furthermore, there is only one place where it is appropriate to budge a line, and that is when you have assigned seating, so it doesn’t matter, like on a plane.
I lightly tapped sundress on the shoulder, trying my best to be polite, “I’m so sorry, but we were actually here first.” Sundress looked a bit shocked and disgusted by my boldness. “Oh, alright then,” she hissed. Just as I thought I might’ve been too stern, Sonja piped up and added, “And they were second.” (Gesturing to smiley couple friends.)
Sometimes a rat can teach a mouse effective tricks.
Good job rat!
Love this! I want more twin stories! ❤️