A man with a giant esophagus has few luxuries. One of them is sushi.
A restaurant upscale enough where each of the people has one indication how rich they are: a leather wristwatch, a wallet tip calculator, a bottle of Riesling. All the women have exactly one piece of expensive jewelry.
The waitress is obviously the owner. In shape late 50something with a tan and facelift and perfectly sophisticated glasses. God knows the divorce story... The three sushi chefs say nothing. One Asian, one half Asian, one white.
In the center of the room is a family where sits a paterfamilias with a shaved head, guns for muscles and a bottle of wine on the table right above his lap. The college age daughter with the white blouse says nothing as though scared of him. The other daughter has a genderqueer partner. We know which is his favorite.
Directly in front of me the cufflinked WASP with the leather wristwatch and the petite wife so understated she has no defining features, even in her clothing. God's frozen people.
Behind me, two Indian teenage girls. One petite, one big and tall, they say nothing.
Two twentysomething couples. One behind, one in front. One tattooed, one preppie.
Next to me at the bar, a late thirtysomething lady whose voice has no vowels takes a selfie while sitting alone. We pointedly don't speak to each other. To speak would break the denial. She takes twice as long as me to order then speaks to her sushis about how delicious they are.
In the corner is a group of five college alternacrowd with weird hair who talk louder than everyone else. They talk about Mark Wahlberg and Toy Story. They are the only people in the restaurant who seem happy.
The sushi comes late. Eight pieces plus some sashimi without rice. Finished in four minutes. The cucumber is clearly pickled but I need to know if there's onion or garlic. The waitress looks at me in panic and puts her whole arm on my shoulder: "Do you have a pen in case I have to save you?"
...yes and yes to be frank. I stutter as I ask for the check.
I don't dare mention the price. Time for pineapple at Wawa.
There's a ten person line to play lottery games.
No comments:
Post a Comment