I really vividly remember an episode of Ellen Degeneres' sitcom simply called Ellen. I wasn't actually a fangirl of this sitcom. It aired while I was still a cartoon devotee and could not understand the entertainment factor of watching real-life people interact with the world. I mean, that's what I did without TV. When I sat down to watch the boob-tube, I wanted to see a football-headed boy play it up on the streets of NYC and a masked duck fight crime.
Anyway, one day Ellen was on (I think she/her self-named character had already come out as a lesbian) and she was all about self-empowerment. She was going to do what she wanted regardless of whether she could get other folks on board. One of her objectives was to dine in a fancy sit-down restaurant alone. She goes so far as to actually call ahead and make a reservation for one. When she gets there the maitre d insists that she actually made a reservation for 7 because to dine alone is nigh unfathomable. (And depending on the reservation-taker's handwriting, I one could fairly easily be mistaken for a 1). Comic antics ensue. However, I think it left me with the stigma that dining alone is a crazy, bold thing to do.
Fast forward 15 years or so, I am in Berlin. I figured I was going whether I could rally a travel companion or not (I couldn't) and that I was going to enjoy myself, dangit (I have). I have sat alone in a formal dining setting twice, and truth be told, the food is not as good. It is lonely just me and a book, or me and my stitching. I swear to you the food does not taste nearly as delicious when not peppered with good (or even just halfway decent) conversation. I enjoy a meal on the go (perhaps munched on in a park) much more than occupying only a quarter of a table.
Anyway, I still had the resolve to have fun. So I found out about this Deutsch-Amerikcanisches Volksfest which was basically an American-themed carnival celebrating its 51st summer of operation (I guess it was sort of an institution during the time Americans were stationed in West Berlin). And I went. And I decided to ride the ferris wheel. Oh, and you'd think there may be one or two Americans at a festival boasting "American" as half the title. Nope, aside from the performers (that almost no one was listening to) from Austin, Texas, all I heard was deutsch, deutsch, deutsch. So I sauntered up to the kasse and paid my fare to ride the wheel. And I endured the awkward stare I got from the operator after he asked (twice, the first time he spoke in German to which I replied with a very ignorant sounding "What?"), "Alone?" I nodded my head, while holding it high. Thinking of Ellen Degeneres.
But have you ever ridden a ferris wheel alone? When you are eating you can immerse yourself in your food. On the ferris wheel, I was surrounded by five empty seats, staring out over the tops of concessions tents watching the sunset over Berlin. I even changed seats a couple of times just so the unoccupied spaces could have a little human touch. The ride was pretty and being that high up was a little scary and definitely thrilling. But I kept hearing the giggles and undecipherable German chit-chat of the happy family behind me. I wanted to let out a big belly laugh myself just to throw them off. But then I could immagine the chipper mom saying, "Who is that crazy solo rider. She must have some sort of mental illness. Perhaps schizophrenia?" and maybe the oldest daughter would say, "Maybe she is on some sort of hallucinogenic drug." So, I sat silently. I did take pictures of myself an arm's length away with my digital camera. So there is evidence of the events of this evening.
I may eat by myself, play tennis by myself, sing a round by myself, but I don't want to ride a ferris wheel alone again.
