You take yourself out to dinner post-massage and -haircut. Even though you know Orlando is the home of Disney, it doesn't occur to you to be wary of restaurants touting local artists who create works on-scene. To be wary of everything really, as there's a lot of facade in this place. But you book yourself a reservation for one, 'cause tapas sounds pretty good, and do your best to own your newly short 'do. You didn't pack mascara, which is how you usually compensate for that naked and at-first unfeminine feeling, but you challenge yourself not to hide. First step: no phone at your table for one. Look around, take in the art on the walls, watch the stooped old woman in the red cloche hat and orthopedic shoes opening her tin of brushes. Notice how the reflection of the pendant lamps in the restaurant window is overlaid on the dimly lit tree outside so that it looks like it's hung with lanterns or giant fireflies. Once you've made your way through the saccharine mojito that has confirmed the themed-ness of this place, allow yourself to tap your foot, to nod your head to the Brazilian music surrounding you. Then, for good measure, order a second drink--this time a real one (gin and soda)--and sit.
You are an observer. Observe.
