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"For this series on where to find single guys in the city, I&amp;amp;#8217;ve checked out the park, a rooftop party and the beach, adventures that have resulted in varying levels of promise for you girls. But this week, it hit me: Sometimes, the best places to look for single guys are the most ordinary, right-under-your-nose kinds of spots--no stilettos or bikini needed! After a day of walking from Midtown West, through the Village, then over the bridge to Brooklyn (not to mention covering a decent amount of square footage in Williamsburg&amp;amp;#8217;s boutiques), Grace, a fellow Glamour intern and my partner-in-crime, and I were hungry. Very hungry. We found ourselves at Fette Sau, a local establishment famous for barbecue. It&amp;amp;#8217;s built in a refurbished garage, and what was once the driveway is now lined with picnic tables. The line for the food hugs the interior wall before spilling across the driveway and curving down the sidewalk. Way down the sidewalk. As it often happens, length of queue is often directly correlated to quality of outcome. In this case, the result was not only a delicious meal, but a new way to meet men. Score! 7 p.m., 0 minutes. Grace and I join the queue, judge the line and immediately underestimate our wait time by an hour. 8 minutes. We scope out the crowd sitting at the picnic benches. One vacationing family has what appears to be half of a cow on their table. This looks delicious and we want some. 12 minutes. Naturally we begin people-watching. The shameless carnivores are mostly local Williamsburg residents with some Manhattanites sprinkled in. Interestingly enough, there&amp;amp;#8217;s about a 70:30 male-to-female ratio and almost all the guys are shockingly good-looking. Hello. 21 minutes. Grace and I breach the perimeter fence and are now in the driveway. We notice the guy in front of us in line is not one person, but three: Guy A and his two buddies (B and C) switch off line duty while the other two chill with a gallon-sized jug of beer at a picnic table, saving a spot for later. 24 minutes. I ask Grace if she&amp;amp;#8217;s still good to wait. Her look tells me we&amp;amp;#8217;re in too deep to quit. Guy A of The Trio turns around when I ask her this. We make eye contact, and I ask him if the food is as good as the line indicates. He says he&amp;amp;#8217;s never been here before; it was his buddy&amp;amp;#8217;s idea. Grace compliments their line-switching system, and we all start to chat. 29 minutes. Our hunger has gone from &amp;amp;#8220;mild ache&amp;amp;#8221; to &amp;amp;#8220;physical pain&amp;amp;#8221;. The vacationing family is doing a horrible job of finishing their cow. We would like to help them out. I contemplate grabbing one of the cookie trays piled with meat and running. 33 minutes. After considering this plan, I remember that approximately 99.99 percent of the people who live in Brooklyn own bicycles, and I realize I would never outrun a Schwinn-pedaling mob of angry hipsters. 37 minutes. The Trio performs a ritual changing of the guard, which introduces Guy B to the line, who is actually really cute. Guy A must have said something to B and C, because B gives us a smile. I ask him if he&amp;amp;#8217;s the friend who has been here. He is not. We chat. 42 minutes. Grace ventures forth to find a Coca-Cola (they come in glass bottles, which is too cute to resist). I continue talking with Guy B. 49 minutes. Guy B knows my life story. 52 minutes. Grace returns with a $3 glass bottle of Coke. 60 minutes. We have breached the inner sanctum--the interior of the restaurant. I volunteer for line-holding duty (Guy B has stayed in line far past the point of switching-off) while Grace finds a spot at a table. Guy B and I continue to chat about various things, such as food, travel and more food. 70 minutes. I know Guy B&amp;amp;#8217;s life story. Graduated from Boston College, hates the hours at his Wall Street finance job but loves New York (and, I suspect, his paycheck). 73 minutes. Guy B and I are swapping stories about Dublin when I notice Grace giving me the eyebrow. I ignore Grace. 76 minutes. I ask Guy B how the vaguely-priced menu works. He says it&amp;amp;#8217;s priced per pound and suggests that Grace and I order four half-pounds of different somethings to sample. I remind him we&amp;amp;#8217;re girls, not 23-year-old men. He laughs and suggests his two favorites for us to try. 80 minutes. Things are approaching come-sit-with us/number-exchange territory, but I&amp;amp;#8217;m feeling so hungry that I&amp;amp;#8217;m a bit queasy. Note to self: Remember to eat actual food before 8 p.m. The situation has come down to a battle between my hunger and keeping up enthusiastic conversation with a cute guy. Lovely ladies, I am sad to say my hunger won. I give him a last smile and tell him I&amp;amp;#8217;m going to switch out table-sitting duties. I get a smile back and a handshake held a little longer than necessary as a sendoff. Grace gives me a smirk (she&amp;amp;#8217;s apparently been watching the whole time) and takes my spot in line. They chat, and I catch the occasional glance over from him. 82 minutes. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I put a couple drops of hot barbecue sauce on my finger. I eat it. 82 minutes, 30 seconds. My mouth is on fire. Grace returns from ordering, looks at me and gets me a cup of water. 90 minutes. The food is HERE. We inhale a pound of meat and four rolls at a speed rivaled only by two linebackers. It was a heck of a wait, but the payoffs (a cute guy to get to know and the best barbecue I&amp;amp;#8217;ve ever had--and that&amp;amp;#8217;s coming from a Kansas City girl) were so worth it. What I learned: Lines don&amp;amp;#8217;t have to suck. If there&amp;amp;#8217;s a cute guy next to you, make eye contact, give him a smile, and start a conversation. The easiest way? Ask a question. You won&amp;amp;#8217;t come off as creepy, and if he&amp;amp;#8217;s not interested, the conversation will fizzle in a non-awkward way. If he is interested, just keep on talkin&amp;amp;#8217;. Best of all? Lines are everywhere. If you&amp;amp;#8217;re waiting at Starbucks, ask him if he&amp;amp;#8217;s tried the new seasonal brew. At Pret on your lunch break? Find out if that avocado salad is as good as you&amp;amp;#8217;ve heard. Outside of a club? See if the DJ lives up to his reputation. Or, just find some sort of commonality like Grace did when she complimented The Trio&amp;#x27;s line-tradeoff system (brilliant move). I found it to be a super-easy, low-key, genuine way to meet a guy. But what do you girls think? Have you ever chatted up a guy in line (and where was it??)? If you haven&amp;amp;#8217;t, where would you go? More Ways to Get Glamour: NEW! Now You Can Read Glamour on Flipboard! Visit ShopGlamour.com for cute stuff starting at just $10! Download Glamour Magazine for your iPad--print subscribers, it&amp;amp;#8217;s now part of your subscription plan! Enter the latest Glamour sweepstakes! Follow us on Twitter. Photo: Thinkstock"^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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