At various points in the evening, practically everyone in the mid-sized, mid-town restaurant turned to look at the woman and her companions. Not because they were particularly well-dressed or unusually attractive, especially by Manhattan standards. But when the overly-made-up blonde threw back her head to laugh, it was a little too loud; and every few minutes, the cellphone belonging to one of her companions would emit a jarringly loud ring, inevitably triggering an extended conversation easily overheard by anyone within a three-table vicinity.

Even the coldest of winds blowing outside the restaurant on that blustery winter night couldn’t match the chill of the glares directed toward the woman and her companions, who remained either blissfully oblivious to the level of annoyance their behavior was causing or, as seemed increasingly likely, didn’t care in the least.

Despite my best efforts, their boisterous conduct eventually managed to impact my own mood and evening, leading me to join my fellow diners in shooting icy glares at the diners to absolutely no avail.

I left the restaurant with a hunger for a smackdown that went unfulfilled.

Fastforward a week or two. Another restaurant, another racous group of diners, another group of neighboring tables being disturbed by peals of loud laughter and excited exclamations.

This time, I was seated much closer to the action… right in the middle of it, in fact. I’d been out for drinks with friends and we’d decided to stop in one of our favorite restaurants for something to eat. Thanks to the good time already in progress — not to mention several rounds of cocktails — we had unwittingly become “those people.”

We were now the people at the next table.

The ones who had annoyed me only a week earlier with their loud conversation and fun-fueled frolicking. We were cackling wildly at our own jokes as we drunk dialed a friend and tweeted every thought that entered our alcohol-soaked brains.

And never did it occur to us that we’d become Those People, at least not until it was much too late and the cold glares I’d reserved for others were now being directed toward me and my fellow diners.

Like many who wind up on the receiving end of looks that could, but don’t, kill, it wasn’t our intention to disturb anyone. And had we been able to step outside ourselves and witness the scene from another perspective, I’d like to think we’d have been mortified… or at least mollified.

But the next time you’re in a situation where a tableful of diners are having a little more fun than you might like them to be having, instead of looking upon them with anger, smile and remember that almost every single one of us has been, at one point or another, in their place.

We’ve all been the people at the next table.

This piece was the funniest, and sadly so true.

The rudeness that the invention of personal cell phones caused (as opposed to “car” phones… remember them?) is uncontrollable. Recently when I took my dad out to dinner a woman sitting many, many, tables over had her cell phone ring. She had to answer, but politely stood up and walked from her dinner companions to be more private. She walked and walked until she was standing just over my shoulder, talking loudly. I was horrified that she thought it was all right, polite even, to walk from her table, but to walk over to another one and annoy those people. My dad,  who is 90% deaf,  motioned that I had a frown on my face. Just then I stood up to tell her we were still in the same lovely, quiet, dining room that she was when seated at her own table, but she snapped her clam shut and toddled off! Everyone looked at me with that “go after her and kick her butt”  look, but I wondered what made them sit in their seats afraid to say something.