manhattan.

went to shake shack with father last night. that's a great burger (id be remiss not to mention that jeannius said that many lifetimes ago.)

the line at the shack is invariably epic; i think dad and i have seen the likes of it only outside the hermitage in st petersberg. thing is, reaching the front of the que and making your order is no denouement. at some pt, preferably before your order is filled, you have to find a table - with chairs. the ratio of customers to chairs at that place is roughly on the order of 400 to 1. patrons become vultures, creepily circling potential vacancies. gaggles of hipsters huddle around chairless tables, sending hunters out for seats. tableless dudes in suits walk around clutching errant chairs, like theyre bearing crosses. i usually try to pounce on a table first, then worry about the chairs.

last night i did it right though. i left my dad in line and, early in my rounds, spotted two women who were drinking shakes with empty burger boxes in front of them: clearly finishing up. i apologized for bothering them, then asked if one of them wouldnt mind coming to get us in line when they were going to leave the table, so either pops or i could seamlessly lay claim to it. worked like a charm; one of them came to get us just as we reached the front of the line.

im kind of ashamed this method had never occurred to me before. was it the darwinian atmosphere of the shack? was it the darwinian atmosphere of ny? was it our increased ability to execute necessary communications with people without actually talking to them? (something tells me all the vultures would have gladly sent mass texts to the table-holders, years before they would have stopped to talk to one of them.)

it's like mariel hemingay said in manhattan: you have to have a little faith in people.