Oh, to be forgotten.

A one act play by Michael B. Lasko

For some reason, Nico and I are quite accustomed to being ignored in restaurants. All kinds of restaurants: Italian, Chinese, seafood, places with views, loud places, and on and on and on. Usually after we're finished eating, we end up alone in an empty corner waiting, and waiting, and waiting for the bill. Tonight we went out for some exotic Mid-Eastern fare, and I learned that the Lebanese can ignore you like no one else on Earth. We weren't just ignored, we were invisible. 30 or 40 minutes later, the sociology experiment got old and we walked up to the front to pay.