Sharni
11-14-2003, 07:03 AM
Out of sight
BY RICHARD CHIN
Pioneer Press
In the dark, as on the Internet, nobody knows you're a dog.
At least, that might be one way to describe the Dinner in the Dark matchmaking concept, which hit the Twin Cities recently.
The scheme is basically a twist on the speed-dating idea, except that it takes place in an unlit dining room.
"It's pitch black; so dark you can't even see the hand in front of you. Meanwhile, your remaining senses — taste, touch, smell and hearing — are working overtime to pick up sight's slack. It may be dark, but the energy in the room has reached a feverish pitch!" promised a news release by City Date Connection, a new Twin Cities-based events-planning company. "All around you, single men and women are meeting one another without the benefit of sight. And they're having an absolute BLAST!"
Wow.
These blacked-out mixers have been tried for a year or so in New York City and in a handful of hip European cities, according to City Date Connection co-founder Eric Strauss. He said the dinners are a way for singles to get to know each other without focusing on appearance — at least, for a couple of hours.
But we were mainly interested in the depravities that normally staid Minnesotans might get into when their inhibitions were lowered by cover of darkness. Would there be necking? Would there be groping? Would diners use the wrong fork for the salad course? Naturally, we decided to be there to see it. Or at least hear it.
EYEING THE CROWD
The venue for the Twin Cities' first taste of sight-free dating was Mangia, a Minneapolis restaurant that agreed to douse its lights and equip its wait staff with night-vision goggles for the event.
At 6:30, the 36 men and women who had paid their $49 started trickling in. They received glow-in-the-dark name tags and samples of a liquor called Hpnotiq, which is described as a combination of vodka, cognac and fruit juices. Good if you like really sweet booze tinted in a Smurf-blue hue.
The restaurant was still lit at this point, and despite the goal of getting past physical appearance, it was clear that the diners were using the opportunity to check each other out while they could still see.
"I don't think it's the most important thing, but I definitely think it's a factor," said Linda Herrmann of the visual element of the mating ritual.
"I want to meet new people, and bars weren't doing it," said Arion Meyering. Dating someone you can't see is weird, but "weird is kind of good," he added.
However, you can't keep the lights off forever, Meyering said. He admitted he once refused to answer the door when a blind date arrived and he saw her through the peephole. "Three hundred pounds really counts," he said.
"It's important to me what they look like," agreed Chad Anderson. "Maybe I'm shallow."
Eventually the City Date organizers got everyone seated in tables of two men and two women. During each course of the meal, the men would get up and move to another table and meet another pair of women.
As in a speed date event, the diners could give each would-be love interest a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down on a scorecard. If a man and woman gave each other a mutual thumbs-up, they could make contact, look at an online profile on the City Date Connection Web site (www.city dateconnection.com) and ar-range to make a real date later.
DIM MEMORIES
The lights were doused, but it became quickly apparent that we would not be eating and meeting in complete darkness because of all of the glowing name tags and the glow sticks placed on each table.
True, it was dim enough that a good toupee might go undetected. But you could still get a general idea of what your tablemates looked like.
The other guy at my table was Bill Freid, who turned out to be an ice cream truck tycoon with a local company called Big Bell Ice Cream.
Using the direct approach that probably moves a lot of Creamsicles, Freid said to one pair of women, "Can we just cut to the chase? Are we getting thumbs-up or thumbs-down?"
We table-hopped through courses that included fennel and zucchini fritters, dolmades, mini-kebabs and baklava, all eaten with fingers, because even when there was flatware or water glasses, it was hard to remember to carry them from one table to the next.
The City Date staff also passed out samples of colognes and perfumes that were supposed to contain pheromones. I spilled some on my hands and had to wash it off.
I saw that the servers weren't using their night-vision goggles anymore. "What are those like?" I asked.
"They're heavy."
I didn't notice any spontaneous make-out sessions, despite the dim lights and free-flowing Hpnotiq and pheromones.
But Freid and I did seem to click with the women at one table. My date even got me a beer. Thanks, hon! Our speed romance turned into a speed breakup when the next course arrived and we moved to the next table.
Hard to say if anyone else had better luck. But I got one good proposition out of the night. Freid said, if I want, I can drive an ice cream truck this spring with all the free samples I can eat.
BY RICHARD CHIN
Pioneer Press
In the dark, as on the Internet, nobody knows you're a dog.
At least, that might be one way to describe the Dinner in the Dark matchmaking concept, which hit the Twin Cities recently.
The scheme is basically a twist on the speed-dating idea, except that it takes place in an unlit dining room.
"It's pitch black; so dark you can't even see the hand in front of you. Meanwhile, your remaining senses — taste, touch, smell and hearing — are working overtime to pick up sight's slack. It may be dark, but the energy in the room has reached a feverish pitch!" promised a news release by City Date Connection, a new Twin Cities-based events-planning company. "All around you, single men and women are meeting one another without the benefit of sight. And they're having an absolute BLAST!"
Wow.
These blacked-out mixers have been tried for a year or so in New York City and in a handful of hip European cities, according to City Date Connection co-founder Eric Strauss. He said the dinners are a way for singles to get to know each other without focusing on appearance — at least, for a couple of hours.
But we were mainly interested in the depravities that normally staid Minnesotans might get into when their inhibitions were lowered by cover of darkness. Would there be necking? Would there be groping? Would diners use the wrong fork for the salad course? Naturally, we decided to be there to see it. Or at least hear it.
EYEING THE CROWD
The venue for the Twin Cities' first taste of sight-free dating was Mangia, a Minneapolis restaurant that agreed to douse its lights and equip its wait staff with night-vision goggles for the event.
At 6:30, the 36 men and women who had paid their $49 started trickling in. They received glow-in-the-dark name tags and samples of a liquor called Hpnotiq, which is described as a combination of vodka, cognac and fruit juices. Good if you like really sweet booze tinted in a Smurf-blue hue.
The restaurant was still lit at this point, and despite the goal of getting past physical appearance, it was clear that the diners were using the opportunity to check each other out while they could still see.
"I don't think it's the most important thing, but I definitely think it's a factor," said Linda Herrmann of the visual element of the mating ritual.
"I want to meet new people, and bars weren't doing it," said Arion Meyering. Dating someone you can't see is weird, but "weird is kind of good," he added.
However, you can't keep the lights off forever, Meyering said. He admitted he once refused to answer the door when a blind date arrived and he saw her through the peephole. "Three hundred pounds really counts," he said.
"It's important to me what they look like," agreed Chad Anderson. "Maybe I'm shallow."
Eventually the City Date organizers got everyone seated in tables of two men and two women. During each course of the meal, the men would get up and move to another table and meet another pair of women.
As in a speed date event, the diners could give each would-be love interest a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down on a scorecard. If a man and woman gave each other a mutual thumbs-up, they could make contact, look at an online profile on the City Date Connection Web site (www.city dateconnection.com) and ar-range to make a real date later.
DIM MEMORIES
The lights were doused, but it became quickly apparent that we would not be eating and meeting in complete darkness because of all of the glowing name tags and the glow sticks placed on each table.
True, it was dim enough that a good toupee might go undetected. But you could still get a general idea of what your tablemates looked like.
The other guy at my table was Bill Freid, who turned out to be an ice cream truck tycoon with a local company called Big Bell Ice Cream.
Using the direct approach that probably moves a lot of Creamsicles, Freid said to one pair of women, "Can we just cut to the chase? Are we getting thumbs-up or thumbs-down?"
We table-hopped through courses that included fennel and zucchini fritters, dolmades, mini-kebabs and baklava, all eaten with fingers, because even when there was flatware or water glasses, it was hard to remember to carry them from one table to the next.
The City Date staff also passed out samples of colognes and perfumes that were supposed to contain pheromones. I spilled some on my hands and had to wash it off.
I saw that the servers weren't using their night-vision goggles anymore. "What are those like?" I asked.
"They're heavy."
I didn't notice any spontaneous make-out sessions, despite the dim lights and free-flowing Hpnotiq and pheromones.
But Freid and I did seem to click with the women at one table. My date even got me a beer. Thanks, hon! Our speed romance turned into a speed breakup when the next course arrived and we moved to the next table.
Hard to say if anyone else had better luck. But I got one good proposition out of the night. Freid said, if I want, I can drive an ice cream truck this spring with all the free samples I can eat.