Confession: Eating Outside Is Overrated

“Let's eat outside. It's such a nice day.”
“Wanna go to a cookout? I am putting meat on the grill.”
“This place has a great rooftop garden.” 

Al fresco for me is literally for the birds. (In fact, I often imagine swarms of birds “doing their business” over unaware outside diners who suddenly realize a topping from the sky has been added to their burgers. Ick.) 

Eating outside is overrated. I just don't get the appeal. 
 

The reasons? Perhaps more personal than objective, but in this case, it's a matter of taste (and ambience) or maybe even some form of post-traumatic stress disorder. 

Insect invasion: My brother was stung by a bee twice, yes twice, when we were eating outside in the backyard. In one case, he sat on the bee. Yes, who wants to eat out and suffer from bees circling around, attracted by whatever you are eating? And not just bees, but other insects, flies, of course. A fly on a paper plate sums up for me the joy of eating outside. And note that these were the days before many homeowners built elaborate decks (all this trouble to build something to eat outside on; seems odd to me). We ate outside on decaying wooden picnic tables placed directly on grass, grass which harbored ants, grasshoppers, and other swarming, creeping things. 
 

Destructive winds: One time at a family barbeque event the wind was so strong it actually lifted an umbrella out of the center of a table and carried it across the yard. Mary Poppins, eat your heart out. Yes, winds can blow paper plates, rip off those temporary tablecloths, knock over paper and plastic cups filled with liquids. Rather than focusing on the food, one ends up focusing on preventing the trappings you have created to hold the food from blowing into your face or falling onto the insect-infested grass. 

Heat-related disasters: I date from the times of charcoal grills. Either the coals would not light, or one time a raging inferno occurred because I put an excessive amount of lighter fluid on the coals (I was impatient; for corn's sake, let's just turn on the stove). And then there's the ice cream issue. Yes, ice cream is suitable for summer, but guess what? It melts. All over. And then there's always the possibility of the melting ice cream falling off the cone, especially if a small child is holding the cone. Oh, the humanity. Especially for children whose faces end up looking like they fell into a mud pit. 
 

Voyeurs: You are sitting outside in your yard or deck or whatever. The neighbors next door are outside, perhaps not eating. Yet they can watch every chew, hear every slurp, every burp. They might ben be able to record it and put it on Facebook. Status: My neighbors are eating outside. I don't want people, especially people you don't know very well, watching my eating habits. Not that I necessarily eat sloppily, but have you ever looked at films of yourself eating? It's not a pretty site. I don't want to be remembered as someone whose mouth is filled with hamburger and potato chips. So much for going back to nature by eating out. 
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We've developed complex dwellings replete with all kinds of amenities, such as stainless steel kitchens and elegant formal dining rooms. Let's eat inside them. And don't ask me to eat out. Just don't. I'm still recovering from too many eating out events that resembled the plagues of Egypt. I'll take a pass over (pun intended) any invites. I would rather invite you in for dessert!