High Decibel Dining

My husband and I and some friends were leaving the movie theater after a late afternoon matinée. The four of us are in the age group where moderate hearing loss is routine. We usually consider this when choosing a restaurant, but a very popular Afghani restaurant, The Kabul, was nearby. We were early enough to get a table without a reservation, though our table was right next to the restaurant's entry way. 

 Low decibel level room

The place is still relatively empty, we are full of good cheer, and the conversation flows easily. We begin discussing the movie we'd seen. The waiter is professional and efficient, and the ordering and eating are moving along. Our small group discussion jumps to updates on all of our grown children. The wine is lovely, the food is excellent, and the restaurant is beginning to fill.

On a scale from zero for the average least perceptible sound to about 130 for the average pain level, the decibel count in the restaurant has increased by approximately 20 decibels since we sat down. We all lean toward each other just a bit and begin talking kayaking; the the peaceful joy of being on the water and the potential for injury and death by drowning. The four of us are in the age group where problems with balance can insidiously begin to intrude on our youthful perceptions of ourselves. 

The vibrating crowd

All of the tables are taken now, the restaurant is completely full, and the noise level has increased another 10 or 15 decibels. In the rosy, dimly lighted room, everyone seems to be in constant motion; the waiters of course, but also the customers coming and going, erratically lifting forks and glasses, gesturing, bodies shifting. A loud but convivial gathering.

We lean in a little as it's incrementally more difficult to catch every word. Our friends are soft-spoken. The discourse now shifts to Israel and the upheaval in that part of the world.  I'm fully engaged, listening intently to the conversation. The decibel level continues to rise and I find I'm attempting to read lips as I strain to hear.

I'm facing the door and I notice that a small crowd of people are standing in the entry way, waiting patiently for a table. We've finished our dinner but are reluctant to leave. We all order coffee and baklava.

We're back to our discussion of the changing world order. The decibel level is now roughly equal to an intimate rock concert, but still below the average pain level.  The crowd at the door grows larger, and I begin to feel like French nobility eating leisurely in front of the starving masses. They are not looking quite as patient. 

While the orderly crowd at the door does not truly resemble a mob, these people do want a table in the popular Afghani restaurant, and are growing restive. We are abruptly done with the dining experience and escape to the relative quiet of the streets.