John Meyer Books
How to Survive Solo Dining
Solo Dining Stigma
It’s become a common maxim that public speaking is a more frightening phobia for people than actual death. I would venture that the third most frightening fear is solo dining.
Many of my friends refuse to try solo traveling. Oh sure, they can manage the planning and the plane ride and the shuttle to the hotel. But their most nagging concern remains: “What do I do about dinner?”
Because unless they meet someone on the trip (which the probability increases exponentially when you travel alone, by the way), they will be arriving at a restaurant or a bar by themselves. Every night.
Is it this big of a deal? Try a cursory internet search for “solo dining.” Article after article will feature words like “awkward” or “taboo” or even the dreaded “L word,” which in this case means “loser.”
These articles will also feature tips on how best to navigate the solo dining experience with the top tip inevitably being: “go during non-peak hours.” I completely disagree. I recommend the opposite: join the ravenous horde.
Some countries, naturally, will make this more difficult.
In Italy, where dining out with friends is like a religion, waiters sometimes frown at solo travelers and often seat me in the chaotic middle of the restaurant.
In Scotland, most fine restaurants insist on only accepting reservations and often don’t list a “1 person” option on their reservation menu.
However, in France… I was often given the best seat in the house so I could people-watch the pretty pedestrians.
And in England, most restaurants and bars don’t even have waiting staff. You find your own seat and you order at the bar (and even pay in advance… without a tip).
Solo Dining Strategy
My advice? Ignore the non-peak hours and simply go when you’re hungry (and avoid those reservation snobs).
However, you should have a game plan. And be ready to be seen. So bring along something to entertain you.
“What about my phone?” Not good enough. Everyone has a phone and everyone uses it. Even bored couples scroll through their phones until the appetizers arrive. If you simply scroll along, you look like everyone else and you immediately fade into the background. (Which is maybe what you want. But you’re on a solo trip here, don’t you want to make new friends?)
“How about I just work on my laptop?” That used to be a good strategy. But it’s too commonplace now. The caffeinated screenwriter tapping away at Starbucks has become a stereotype. And everyone will fear you… because you just might join a (loud) Zoom call.
No, no, you have to go old school. Pen and paper. Or a book. Nowadays, the old school routine makes you stand out. It makes you interesting. It gives you a small secret power because you’re publicly ignoring the crowd and leaping into your own personal fantasy world.
I bring my journal and a book everywhere. They’re perfect for the plane, the bus, a quiet park bench, and a busy restaurant. And people approach me. All the time. Young people, seniors, couples, other solo diners, bartenders, the wait staff… everyone.
“What are you doing?” “Me and my mates are just sitting over there and wondering what you were writing about?” “Is that a journal or something? Are you from out-of-town?”
In Bergen, I was approached by a group of graduating teens who asked about my journal and then joined me at the bar to talk about hockey and my thoughts on Norway. At the end of the night, I was invited to their high school graduation. (I declined.)
In Quebec City, I was approached by two college students who had just made a bet on what I was writing. Then they joined me at my table to practice their English and discuss politics. At the end of the night, I was invited to dance with them at the club. (I accepted.)
In Rhodes, the bartender asked me about my journal, found out that I spoke English, and then encouraged all the English-speaking expats in the bar to gather around and meet me. At the end of the night, I was invited to the South African’s apartment for an after-party. (I slept overnight.)
It’s not always a party. Mostly it’s just random conversations with inquisitive people.
In Glasgow, I was reading Dickens (I prefer bleak books for bleak weather) and almost every meal was interrupted by a charming bibliophile. “Is that a Dickens? The Old Curiosity Shop? Don’t think I’ve read that one…”
Why do I appeal to strangers? I don’t. These interactions only occur when I’m in a pub or a restaurant reading a book or writing in my journal.
“So why am I so frequently approached?
People are naturally curious (especially after a couple of glasses of wine). I stand out and they might wonder, “What is he doing that seems so important? I must find out…”
Maybe they’re bored and they want a distraction. Maybe they admire people who clearly don’t have a problem with being alone. Maybe they wish that they could dine alone so they see you as an ally (or an influencer).
I don’t know why I’m approached so often. I’m sure there’s a different reason for every single person. But the welcome interruptions do happen. All the time. When I travel and when I’m at home.
And when I don’t want to be approached? I scroll through my phone.
For more fun stories about solo traveling, check out:
https://www.johnmeyerbooks.com/christmas-mobster/