The pale green table with nobody beside it

After I ordered a salad and my husband ordered a chicken dish, I could see by our waiter's face that something was wrong. But when I said I'd just have water, it was no longer necessary to read his body language.

"You have the best table in the place and you just order salad and water? You can't sit at this table if you don't order a meal." Besides, he said, they didn't have the chicken dish or any other dish besides fish, and when we told him my husband was allergic to seafood, he didn't even pretend not to be glad to have an excuse to send us out the door.

We tried again at the taverna next door, sitting at the little table along the waterfront, knowing we'd be enjoying our meal as the sun set beyond the sea. We made sure they had something besides fish before taking our seats, then again asked for the salad and the chicken.

"This table isn't just for people who eat appetizers," said our new waiter, not even pretending that the customer is always right or worrying that we wouldn't come back next month if we didn't get good service.

I'd been warned again and again about manners towards Americans by the French, but had never experienced anything negative in multiple trips to France. It seemed in the three days we'd been in Greece we were always making Greeks mad. It made us a bit jumpy, but we asked ever-so-politely if we couldn't perhaps sit at the table next to the table by the water, and order our preferred meal, be it ever-so small.

Because we don't drink alcohol and because we often split meals, there may be more waiters than one (or two in this case) who'd rather move us out. But we'd just had huge meals in Athens the days before and couldn't take home the leftovers because we had no refrigerator and hated to waste what we couldn't eat, (and wanted to save room for gelato) so we returned to our shared-meal m.o.

It was a great meal in an amazing setting and as the evening progressed, the entertainment became the excitement of the passers-by over the sunset and the saga of the little table by the sea.

Little Venice is a tourist-heavy area on Mykonos lined with cafes. There is a little path between the buildings and the tables filled with people walking to view the sunset or find a bar or a table or a good place to take a photograph. Many languages could be heard, many interesting people could be seen, and the view of the windmills in one direction and the setting sun in the other was like nothing we'd ever seen.

After we abandoned the little table in question, several more couples tried unsuccessfully. As soon as the first sat down, they were promptly told by a perturbed waiter that they'd have to order more than appetizers. They left. The next couple just wanted drinks. Had to go. The third couple. Same thing.

So it was a lonely little table all night long. And as our waiter chased the photographers out of our way because we at least were paying something, it was hard not to laugh.

We left a good tip. Not because we got good service. Not because tips in Greece are like they are in America. But because we hope next time the waiter won't judge a couple by what they order.

So that next time, the pale green table with nobody beside it... won't be so lonely.