Table for Two

Lessons in patience and martinis

My girlfriend and I spent New Year's Eve in Chicago. We wanted to repeat last year's feat of going to dinner at our favorite restaurant, Gibsons’s, around 8 p.m., where we had a lovely time. This sounds nice in principle, but the only problem with this plan is that this restaurant is also many other people's favorite restaurant, and we didn’t have a reservation.

Gibson's is a Chicago institution. It's a perfect mix of a steakhouse and a cozy bar vibe. They have a piano in the corner, and it's the ideal place for any occasion. When we walked in a couple of nights ago, as we did when we walked in last year, the bar was bustling. Forty people were waiting in line for tables in the back portion of the restaurant, which was already over-subscribed with reservations, and the bar area (our favorite), which features about twenty seats and two dozen hightop tables, is first come, first serve, and three people deep. Our chances were slim.

Charlie and The Chocolate Factory played on the bar TV, and live music played on the piano in the corner. Martinis were flowing, and the room was buzzing and glimmering with sequins. It was electric—the kind of room you want to be in for New Year’s Eve.

Busy yet festive

Despite a similar level of busyness last year, we were able to get in after about half a beer of waiting, and I felt strangely optimistic for no good reason. I tried to order some drinks while my girlfriend inquired to see if there was a waitlist. We saw one table in the bar area, again usually resigned for walking and being held with a reserved sign. Despite the ten minutes she was gone, she could not even make it to the main entrance host stand because of the overwhelming lines. Things weren't looking good.

She then had the brilliant idea to talk to the servers at their station in the corner of the bar. Then, somehow, by fate, they told us that the reserved table, the best table in the bar area, was reserved for a couple who didn't show up and that we could have it. It was a miracle. When we sat down on the television in the corner, it was the part in the movie when Charlie found the golden ticket in his Wonka chocolate bar and ran through the crowd back home to tell his family that he had gotten it. I couldn't help but smile. Our golden ticket was a black and white checkered tablecloth, and our Wonka bar was the best martini in Chicago; it was perfect.

I think the photo above says everything. The piano player, Lloyd, who we talked to on his set break, was so nice and provided the ideal score for the evening. When he was on his set break, the gentleman on the left, seated in the foreground in the sequined jacket, also sat in. They both played a perfect mix of jazz standards and Billy Joel. The couple dressed up, with a full Manhattan, looked the part. They had the right idea.

We then proceeded to have a fantastic meal, comfortably nested in the corner of the room, with a perfect view of the evening's festivities. Now, this was the extreme example, and we got very, very lucky, but as I look back on the year and specifically getting dinner or drinks at busy spots, it sounds very simple and obvious, but I've learned two things this year. I've learned that sometimes, a little patience and a bit of courage is all it takes to get in. This was one of those times.

Two simple, obvious tactics have led us to get a table at some busy spots this year. One, actually talk to someone. It never hurts to ask. We would still be waiting to get in if we didn't ask. Secondly, once you do ask, wait. Every time I've done this in the past few months, I was given a quote time that was an estimation that was much, much longer than the actual wait time. Thirty minutes turned into five minutes, and an hour turned into fifteen. If it's somewhere where you want to go, don't be afraid to wait. The quote times are completely arbitrary by the staff, and I'm learning they are often overestimated in these busy situations to deter you from going. Don't be afraid to wait a little bit.

We adhered to these principles and were rewarded with the best table in the house. If you are ever in Chicago, go to Gibson's. Don't be afraid of a little wait. I’d also advise you to be prepared for a hangover the next day because once you get seated, the place is so perfect that you won't want to leave.