January 4th, 2009 4:35 PM
Written from about 2:15 to 2:45. It was actually kind of sad, I started it out writing horribly on a scrap of napkin, and moved on to typing it all up on my blackberry...
I'm sitting in a restaurant in Japantown, cooped up at a table with my cousin Walsy, Marshall, and two other people I don't know. The restaurant is fairly busy, all the tables are filled. We're sharing our table with two other people to conserve space, and things are feeling pretty awkward. A waitress in yellow comes to our table, here to take our order. Her voice is high pitched and squeaky, it's rather obnoxious. I decide I'm not hungry and she takes everyone else's order. Her voice aside, she's actually quite pretty.
There's a woman standing at the table next to ours, holding a crying baby. It sounds quite uncomfortable, so I'm not nearly as annoyed as I am sympathetic. The baby stopped crying, and now it is looking around, a look of curiosity sparkling in its eyes. I say it, because I fail to determine it's gender... Everyone at the table stood up and left. It's a lot quieter now.
The two people sitting opposite Marshall, my cousin, and I, are Asian women of their late thirties, I imagine. They're chattering away in Chinese, I think. An older gentleman just sat down with them, squishing us further in our seats. Marshall dragged the table closer to us, and the Asian woman closest to us stared at us, and jokingly said, "oh, THAT's cool." Marshall laughs and apologizes, explaining he didn't mean it to offend them.
Walsy and Marshall are now talking about my best friend, Paolo. They mentioned his strange ways of greeting people on the phone...
There's a gay couple sitting at a table directly across from us, and of the men Asian, one caucasian. The Asian man is wearing a tacky but warm scarf, a chav looking jacket, and has a very large haircut. The caucasian man is wearing hornrimmed glasses, and a tight brown V-neck sweater. They're both eating Ramen and are talking about the pros and cons of having seaweed in their soup.
I've just noticed the television above the bar along the opposite side of the restaurant - there's an old Asian woman singing in Japanese, who sounds rather like Judy Garland. It changed to a younger Asian girl singing loudly, she has a pixie haircut that would look better if her face wasn't so round.
The waitress comes back, bringing my cousin's food with her. My cousin mumbles a brief thank you, but the waitress rudely ignores this and walks away. Another waitress brings fried rice and wonton soup to the three others at the table. Our waitress finally brings Marshall's ramen, and everyone else starts to eat.
The food around me reeks of seafood and vegetables, tainted by the aroma of meat. It triggers my gag reflex - I don't know how anyone can stand that smell.
The woman next to me asks Marshall for the soy sauce, and it becomes clear how thick her Chinese accent is. She couldn't quite form the question right, grammatically.
The gay Asian man across the room took off his scarf, and really buckled down into eating. He looks rather like a starved man who's just seen food for the first time in weeks, rather than a somewhat plump Asian man who is on a date with a white man. The white man seems to ignore the Asian's repulsive way of eating, distracted by his own ramen.
An awkward Vietnamese man walked by our table, and through the doors to my right. They lead to the bathroom, I assume. He walked back out, shortly after. I imagine the bathroom is full. Or, the man took a quick piss and very unhygenically disregarded the sign in the bathrooms reading, "wash your hands!"
The white gay man is now telling the Asian a story about how his friend Don had to drag him up his stairs to his apartment, and he was aching and screaming. He explains how he was dropped in his bed and he passed out, and then woke up hours later, his sheets soiled with mud. He said it was raining, and so the dirt and mud got dragged all over his apartment. He concluded this by explaining that he was drunk, and then moves on to ask his date if he had any similar drunken stories.
Marshall leant over to me and said, "our waitress's head is so ROUND! It's like a soccerball, look!" I grinned. It's true, her head is rather round. But it's rather cute, it makes her look younger.
Many of the tables are empty now, the gay couple left. Now it's very quiet. Marshall is still eating his ramen, but my cousin seems to have given up on whatever it is she's eating.
There's an Asian man in a white hat two tables over reading the ingredients off a vitamin water bottle. He got to the word fructose and made a very weird face... His eyes appear to be too close together. Or maybe it's just me. He sounds like this guy I know, named John G... And now he seems to have noticed me staring. I'm going to move on.
There is a lonely Asian man sitting at the bar, sporting a blue sweatshirt and tight blue jeans. He's eating steamed rice and some noodle dish, and appears to be very absorbed in thought. That, or he is just very interested in his food.
Three of the waitresses are standing around some plastic dishes laughing as Marshall calls for the check. One brings it over, a very annoyed expression on her face. I like this restaurant, but I seriously dislike how the waitresses treat the customers. I'm undecided on how much I'd like to come back here again.