There aren’t many places you can sit down and immediately be handed a piece of reading material.
A restaurant is the single place that fits this criteria, and good luck thinking of any further places. Give it a shot, though.
In response, are you by chance thinking of a library or an informational booth at which you are given a seat? Both responses are admirable, but I have to give them a grade of “whoopsie poopsie; this idea smells like a toot.”
Rarely are you lead to a seat by a librarian, as you are by a restaurant host, and informational booth workers would never offer you a seat - for fear that doing so might lead to a conversation lasting longer than their accustomed twenty-five second period. Similarly, full onus is put on you to grab the available texts at either location.
Here we have it, the end of the debate, a conclusion: restaurants are the only public area where you can be expected to be escorted to a comfy seat and promptly handed literature.
It seems this isn’t your first debate, another rebuttal I see.
Well sure, this is a loose definition of literature. You’re not the first person to point this out to me.
Myself, for one, I pointed this point out to myself.
I was on your side of the argument when originally discussing this topic with my friend, Todd. He claimed, as I do now, that restaurant menus are, and should more widely be categorized as, literature. And as you do now, I said that all that are on the darn things are unrelated words. Any imagery in the patron’s head is connotative. Write “Pesto Pellets” and any customer will picture pesto pellets in their mind.
That’s why I’ve taken to transforming local restaurant menus into literature. No, I wouldn’t exactly call it ad-lib inspired, but I’d be lying if the end result doesn’t somewhat resemble their model.
I take a restaurant’s menu and link their items together in story form. Menu items, and their price, are emboldened to help customers keep everything straight.
Here’s an example from a neighborhood Gastropub’s menu I just completed:
The town farmer in an imaginary town likes to be close with his livestock. One day, the town’s farmer took to making physical contact with his cattle, especially around their face areas. He took a liking to the cattle’s cheek, thinking, “…wouldn’t this Cow cheek be fun to chew alongside parsnip, rice, fermented bean, and ginger?” The sole farmer in this imaginary town was convinced. “I wouldn’t mind giving a waiter $30.75 for such a meal,” he exclaimed, alone in the barn.
That was but a small excerpt from the ‘pub’s menu. I’m really happy with how it turned out. The characters alive, all of ‘em. You’ll have to visit the establishment to read the whole piece!