One of Red's favorite restaurants that she has turned me onto is Dove Vivi, a casual but nicely upscale pizza place on NE Glisan. They make splendid cornmeal-crust pies with interesting combinations of toppings. The atmosphere is comfortable and relaxed, at a modest price.
Not surprisingly, it's quite a popular place for dinner. You usually have to wait a few minutes for a table. In the meantime, they serve a nice selection of wines.
Last time we went there, we put our names on the list, then went outside to wait on the bench. I noticed that one of the outdoor tables that evening was set up right to the front door. It was a thin table, and it was so close to the door that both chairs were arranged on the same side of the table, facing the foot traffic of the door only a few feet away.
Except for the place settings, the table looked as if it were set up to receive registrations for people coming to the restaurant for an event.
A few minutes later the server called our name. She offered us this same table outside by the front door. I looked at Red and shook my head.
"I think we'll wait for another table," I told the server. We sat back down on the bench. A young couple nearby was happy to take our place there.
Only a few minutes passed before the server called our name again. This time she motioned us towards a proper two-person table inside near the window.
The cornmeal-crust pizza was delicious, as usual. As we dined, I peeked out the window to the young couple happily eating at the table that we had passed over.
"Imagine sitting there and when someone walks up to go in the restaurant, you could hand them a clipboard with a petition on it," I said.
Red liked that idea.
"It would have to be a petition against the restaurant itself," I said.
"...about some kind of meat served here," added Red.
"And the manager comes out and asks them what they're doing, and they act astonished at him, that he would confront them."
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