What happens you ask?
No offense to any engineer readers I might have, as soon as my belly and I sat down it was like the air over the table froze. Small talk sputtered at best.
“Butter?” I offered.
“No thanks, don’t use it,” answered engineer number 1, who was a dead ringer for Scotty from Star Trek
“You don’t use butter, really?” queried engineer number 2.
“No,” answered Scotty, never looking up from his dry roll.
Quiet chewing of dry dinner roll ensued.
“I’m from Canada,” offered engineer number 2 completely out of the blue.
“You don’t say,” the third engineer lobbed back completely by reflex.
Sipping and chewing.
“I’m from Vermont,” said Scotty proudly.”A lot to do there.”
“There is a lot to do in Vegas, too,” randomly threw out the 3rd engineer.
Seizing an opportunity to sustain a conversation volley I said, “Oh, are you from Vegas?”
They looked at me and, based on their complete inability to address me or even look at me I figured they saw this:
I did what anyone would do in the situation, I lost myself in my ice water
and gave a solemn vow
to never do another malicious thing if someone could just put us out of our misery. The end.