Wicked Pisser

I had a perfect night last night. The plan was to grab a leisurely dinner and a movie with friends, but we never made it to the movie. Alex, despite having lived in many cities, despite her knowledge of many countries, and despite the fact that she's going to single handedly bring about world peace in a few years, had trouble navigating the streets of Boston. I called her at least thirty times in a span of as many minutes, trying to figure out just why it took her so long to get from the Park Street to Boylston stops. (It's a straight line, if you walked it, you'd get there in a minute and wouldn't cross any streets.) But alas, we all made it to Dong Khanh in one frozen piece, where we ate, lingered, then lingered some more. Alex made me order for the table, then gamely ate everything. Jared ate nothing. It's not really his fault, though. Cheap food can kill Jared. Afterward dinner, we caught a Chinese cafe as it was about to close. The ladies there were eager to sell off what still remained and kept pushing buns and rolls toward us. Every second we hesitated made them think we were driving a hard bargain, so that Alex walked away with two mini-mooncakes, four coconut rolls, and some other random piece of bread, all for $3.

I've got lots of things going on to stress about now, lots of things to think about, lots of things to do, but last night, just slowly eating with a couple of good friends, rolling with whatever surprises came up, was just perfect.

Plus, the apparently remarkable speed with which I pee was once again noted and commented upon, which was as odd as it was edifying. I may be shorter and more stupid than you are, but by God, I will pee faster than you, anytime, anywhere.