A personal quirk of mine is preferring always to eat at the bar of a restaurant.  Too many places – and especially too many popular places – treat the dining section as a reborn steerage class.  Case in point – last night we’re sitting at a two person table with maybe 15 inches of clearance against the next table.  Their waiter arrives and is announcing the specials as he opens the wine they’ve ordered – only the limited gap means his elbow is spilling into my space and I have nearly a minute of bobbing and weaving as he uncorks the thing.  As I shadow box I come up with a term for this problem –  oinodoulooignophobia:

oinodoulos – Greek for wine slave and even though the dictionary contains no entry I’m sure I’ve seen it somewhere.

oignumi – Greek for open (and the word in Homer for unsealing a krater of wine).


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