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Table for One
July 12, 2000
The first and only Broadway play I've ever seen, I attended
alone. I was in New York for a conference, and after spending my first night
in my hotel room relishing room service and cable TV from the vast expanse of
my king-size bed, I mustered the courage to take in New York the next night
alone. After conferring with the concierge, hitting the Hot Tix booth at nearby
Times Square, and asking a grandfather-type in line for directions to the theater,
I stood in the foyer with all the other tourists waiting for the theater to
begin seating for "Cats."
While all the other patrons of the arts chatted amongst themselves,
I snuck in some inconspicuous people watching (one of my favorite pastimes!),
then started staring at the ceiling, the walls, and the floor as time dragged
on and on. I wondered if I looked as awkward as I felt standing there alone
amongst all the happy chatter.
When they finally let us in, I took my plush aisle seat —
and was happy to find myself next to a family of five, instead of sticking out
like a sore thumb in my own row. During the intermission I even struck up a
conversation with the woman next to me, the mom of the family, and discovered
they were on holiday from Denmark, their first trip to the States. We had a
delightful conversation as she told me of all the wonderful sites they'd seen
— until the lights dimmed and the singing, dancing cat-people reappeared.
Walking back to the hotel after the show, I realized I probably
wouldn't have had that conversation — and probably wouldn't have taken nearly
the time to admire the theater's beautiful architecture — had I been there
with others, on whom my attention would have been focused. Maybe venturing alone
in public wasn't as bad as I'd previously thought.
Since then I've eaten alone in restaurants and gone to see
movies alone — both away from home on business trips and in my own neighborhood.
Each time, I marvel at the conversations, observations, and opportunities I
probably would have missed if I hadn't been alone. And each time I care a little
less what others think about my aloneness and learn to enjoy my own company
a bit more. Alone, I've discovered I laugh a little louder and see a whole lot
more — including those easy-to-miss moments of God's grace (a child's laugher,
a flower growing in the cracks of a sidewalk).
Perhaps that's why one of my favorite movies — which I first
saw alone! — is Next Stop Wonderland (warning: it's rated R for mild language).
In it, the main character, a quirky single woman, confidently dines alone in
public and discusses the difference between being lonely and being alone. Prior
to my solo excursions I erroneously thought those were synonymous. Now I know
better. I would even suggest that we need to learn to enjoy and be comfortable
with our own company before we can truly be good company for anyone else.
Don't get me wrong, I still love hanging out with my friends;
they just aren't a prerequisite for fun anymore. And there are still the occasional
awkward alone moments, but I'm learning to ask God to fill them with his surprise
blessings and to use those silences to help me tune into his still, small voice.
Though aloneness isn't always on my agenda, sometimes I suspect it's part of
God's grand plan to get my attention and remind me that no matter where I am
or who I'm with or without, he's always there.
Blessings!
Camerin Courtney
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