I am driving to a squalid, disheveled part of town and I am salivating. I am envisioning chicken meatballs in a light tomato ginger sauce and they will be in the front pan under the heated awning at my favorite Asian buffet. Some really imaginative guy named the place Asian Buffet and now I am parking right outside the place. Across the street is a combined manicure/massage parlor and the week before our police department closed the place because Madame Wang, the fifty-ish proprietor was doing more for her clients than kneading their backs and polishing their nails. I think you know what I mean.
An elderly Chinese couple originally owned the place and they knew little English but they did a lot of bowing which made up for their deficit in our quirky language. I like the Asian practice of bowing and we should adopt this in our country. It makes more sense than those four-minute handshakes the dudes do. Bowing and more popcorn shops, that's what this country needs.
But now a younger Asian gentleman is running the place and I assumed he was second generation American. I have heard him say only two things all the times I've been there so he's probably not. "Ha-rro-o-o!" every time someone enters and "Long time no see!" even though I was here two days ago. "I like your shirt," I say a little too loudly as if he were hard of hearing. He smiles and bows not knowing I am referring to his Jimi Hendrix tee.
This new guy has cut corners, I've noticed this, sneaky devil. He's replaced the red and white paper Coke glasses with this cheap version that gets soggy after the fifth refill, yes I do drink that much soda and I think he's watering it down. There are no longer extra napkins so the one flimsy one fastened around the silverware will have to do. The ice machine never works and don't get me started on the condition of the restroom the one time I was stupid enough to use it. I think about inviting my father because of all the healthy crunchy marinated vegetables the buffet offers but he's the kind of guy who carries a large-sized jar of sanitized wipes in his jeans pocket at every family reunion. I'd never get him past the front door.
An elderly Chinese couple originally owned the place and they knew little English but they did a lot of bowing which made up for their deficit in our quirky language. I like the Asian practice of bowing and we should adopt this in our country. It makes more sense than those four-minute handshakes the dudes do. Bowing and more popcorn shops, that's what this country needs.
But now a younger Asian gentleman is running the place and I assumed he was second generation American. I have heard him say only two things all the times I've been there so he's probably not. "Ha-rro-o-o!" every time someone enters and "Long time no see!" even though I was here two days ago. "I like your shirt," I say a little too loudly as if he were hard of hearing. He smiles and bows not knowing I am referring to his Jimi Hendrix tee.
This new guy has cut corners, I've noticed this, sneaky devil. He's replaced the red and white paper Coke glasses with this cheap version that gets soggy after the fifth refill, yes I do drink that much soda and I think he's watering it down. There are no longer extra napkins so the one flimsy one fastened around the silverware will have to do. The ice machine never works and don't get me started on the condition of the restroom the one time I was stupid enough to use it. I think about inviting my father because of all the healthy crunchy marinated vegetables the buffet offers but he's the kind of guy who carries a large-sized jar of sanitized wipes in his jeans pocket at every family reunion. I'd never get him past the front door.
1 comment:
Any wearer of a Hendrix T Shirt is ok by me...
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