I don't like eating alone. For me, eating is a very social experience. Food is not simply something I ingest for nourishment. It's a component of culinary conversation. I like to eat and talk and talk about eating.
After I had a glorious free facial at Qua, I sought a light lunch at my beloved Payard, which, as I've noted before, is an excellent place to brunch. Mr. Monkey was still playing golf, so I intended to do a grab-and-go from the counter and nosh upstairs in my room. But, as I exited the restaurant, a small table opened up.
I sat down. And I ate alone.
Eating alone in Vegas is pretty fun. It's not quiet. It's not slow. Slot machines whir and ding and clank. Drunk people slur and sing and stank.
And, yes, I know that should be "stink," but "stink" doesn't rhyme with "clank." Give me a little creative liberty here.
Needless to say, sitting and munching and watching the Vegas world go by was entertaining.
For $15.15 (which was ultimately comped by the hotel), I had a simple ham, egg, and cheese buckwheat crepe, mixed greens, and cafe au lait.
For completely free, I had a slice of The Middle America Meets Outrageous Decadence Show.
Both were rather satisfying.