In spite of the less-than-favorable forecast and the typical Irish weather, it had been a beautiful day in Dublin, and we’d been walking and soaking in the scenery all day long. After debating our options, we’d finally selected to eat in the outside area of a restaurant adjacent to the pedestrian zone. We placed our order, and sat back, ready to enjoy both people-watching and being off of our feet. It was finally sinking in: Our long anticipated trip had really begun!

Dining tables in Europe tend to be placed closer together which can invite conversation or at least facilitate eavesdropping. The table across from ours was quite close, and the four people there were clearly enjoying their time together, with lively conversation. The server kept them well-supplied with a variety of adult beverages, and their happy laughter was a nice backdrop to the scenery and our own idle conversation. Eventually, not long after we got our meal, they departed.

Within minutes after they left, a man strolled in from the street, sauntered over to their table, still cluttered with half-finished drinks and dirty plates, and sat down. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs, clearly quite at ease.

He must be hungry or really impatient, I thought idly. He isn’t even waiting for the table to be cleared.

Then, the man casually picked up one half-finished drink, lifted it to his lips and drank it down.

Wait! What?!

Kurt and I turned to each other, astonished. We looked back just in time to see the man downing the dregs of the next drink. And then the next. And the next. Almost before we could even process this, he had emptied all the glasses, stood up and was walking away.

As he left, a server approached, and he reached out with both his hands, clasped one of her hands and vigorously shook it. She looked a bit confused, but smiled at him as he talked to her. Then he released her hand and casually walked out of the restaurant and down the street. She continued toward us.

“Excuse me,” my husband said to her as she neared our table, “Did you know that man?”

“No,” she said, laughing. ” I have no idea who he is.”

“Well,” my husband said, “he just sat down and polished off the remnants of all the drinks that were on that table.”

The waitress’s jaw dropped.

Mine still does too, every time I think about it.