A GOOD APPETITE FOR FOOD

Not a classic beauty by any means. But cute as the dickens. Adorable.
And also charming. Unfortunately I do not know her, I merely got to see her interacting with a relative and a neighbor on the bus.
I quite enjoyed my trip to Chinatown for dinner yesterday afternoon.

I had gotten on at Clay and Polk, as did she, and when the bus stopped at Larkin Street I moved to the back of the bus to give an old person my seat.

I always feel guilty about sitting in those seats -- and fervently dislike the manspreading that is usually visible when some young tweak-head sits opposite texting -- so whenever possible I head further in.

Which sometimes is a wonderful thing.

She's short, has a very nice smile, and a face that shows character and a very lively intelligence. I can imagine how enjoyable it must be to sit at the same table with her, eating tasty food.


Unfortunately, I did not do that. Perhaps next time I should ask her out for some cake and coffee, or something.


A DISTURBANCE IN THE FORCE

Dinner itself was good, apart from a reality-challenged woman on the other side of the room, whom everybody studiously ignored. A thin elderly lady with a strong Filipina accent, whose frequent squawking followed a precise formula: "they are putting poison in ---- and they are selling it right now!"

She vocalized with a note twixt outrage and happy discovery.

"The Russians are putting poison in green tee-shirts; and they are selling it right now!"

"The government is putting poison in hats; and they are selling it right now!"

"The Chinese put poison in the sugar; they are selling it right now!"

"The city ..... and they sell it, right now!"

"The church ..... right now!"

And so forth.


She also mentioned white tee-shirts, parkas, cake, kleenex, forks, blue socks, underwear, sweaters, pajama bottoms, and ice cream. Normally these are all good things, but if she's speaking the truth, there may be eventual problems.

She herself was not visibly encumbered with any of the items she listed, and none of them were available at the cha-chanteng in any case.
I had gone there strictly for sustenance.

Baked Portuguese chicken rice (enough for two people), Hong Kong milk-tea, Sriracha hotsauce, and regular tea. All salted with Aunt Batty's loud utterances. Startling the first few times, surreal thereafter.

I really enjoyed my meal.

I ate far too much.


Kept thinking of the young woman on the bus. She's really very nice.
I hope I run into her again.




AFTER THOUGHT 1. -- She looked totally huggable and neat-o with her spectacles, clean comfy jeans, and pale blue backpack, precisely the kind of woman whom one would feel confident bringing home to meet the parents. Not that that is an issue, and the cigar lounge is not really a substitute, but if the opportunity presents itself, I would hope that my friends there do not embarrass me.

AFTER THOUGHT 2. -- That's three times in as many weeks that I've been to that cha-chanteng on a Friday. Next week I'll probably go somewhere else, to have roast duck over rice.

AFTER THOUGHT 3. -- Rainy weather is delightfully moody, apropos of nothing. Imagine being indoors, with the street noises muted, enjoying a long lazy afternoon.

AFTER THOUGHT 4. -- Tonight's dinner was fried nuclear waste-dump chorizo, gonpoy noodles, tomatoes, ginger, and hotsauce.
Let's see what happens.

AFTER THOUGHT 5. -- Heading over to the cigar lounge soon.
Sure hope no one is screaming at the television.



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