Eating in. I had breakfast inside of a New York City diner a few days ago. It was a test to see what eating in a restaurant post-covid would be like.

I’ve eaten in different establishments in Westchester and in upstate New York over the past few months, but for some strange reason, New York City was placed off-limits to indoor dining “because of covid.”

It never made sense why the five boroughs were not allowed to follow the same pattern of re-opening as the rest of the state, but hey, all of that stuff is in the past.

I’ll write more thoughts on how I feel about that in my newsletter, Think Things Through in a few days.

My son had to attend an outdoor meeting with his school to see his classmates in person for an hour and a half, so I chose to grab some breakfast at a nearby diner. There was still outdoor seating, but I wanted to experience the full dining experience to see what had changed.

As I entered, the host shot me in the head with one of those thermometers. I passed that test. They asked me to sign a form informing the establishment that I don’t have symptoms of COVID. Next, they asked for my name and telephone number. I find signing anything curious today since no one checks the signature against any other form of ID.

When I sign a credit card machine at a store, sometimes I create a stick figure. I might create a funny scene for my own amusement. It’s too bad the cashiers overlook my masterpieces.

I decided to be creative and sign “John Doe.” The telephone number I gave them: 917-555-1212. Next time it will be 867-5309.

It’s my little way of resisting the resistance.

For months, people have been told eating in a New York City restaurant was tantamount to eating covid ball soup. The proper precautions are being implemented. Things are being handled properly. Go out to eat if you have the extra loot.

Folx, eating in isn’t a death sentence.