Attack of the Knife-Wielding Sushi Boy

My wife and daughter claim that I'm prone to exaggeration. Me? I don't buy it. Not for one minute.

Take for example the dark, dark incident that henceforth shall be known as "The Attack of the Knife-Wielding Sushi Boy." 

You know, memory can be a funny thing. It's strange how my daughter remembers the "incident" quite a bit differently than I do. I suppose it's her mind's way of protecting her from such vividly nightmarish occurrences.

And it's all true!!! As my mind is my witness.

There I was, visiting my daughter in her small lil' town when we decided to get sushi. However, her town's so small, I doubt the inhabitants have ever heard of sushi, let alone run a sushi joint.

So we had to travel about 35 minutes away to yet another small town (although this one big enough to have a very good sushi joint; we'd eaten there before) to satiate our sushi cravings.

The parking lot seemed uncustomarily full. Uh-oh #1. The waitress looked around the packed restaurant and said, "It'll be about an hour until a table opens up."

Hopes dropped. Hunger pangs rose. As did blood pressure.

Sensing our sushi hopelessness, the waitress suggested we could sit at the sushi bar. 

Now, I've sat a sushi bars before, but none as cramped and awkward as this one. It wasn't a bar, but a tiny ledge, barely enough room to put a plate on while people happily chowed down at tables right at our back. And we sat so low, I could look up into the sushi chef's nostrils, mere inches away. Trying to talk to my daughter played havoc with my neck, cricking every time I attempted to turn to speak with her. And we couldn't even hear each other over the raucous chowing and chatting and coughing (Uh-oh #2!). We'd found Sushi Hell. Or...it had found us.

But, being the good-natured, good sport that I am, we decided to make the best of our awful situation. 

Naturally, things crashed downhill after that. 25 minutes of waiting and we still hadn't seen a menu or waitress. I noticed a table in the corner opening up. So I raced back to the front desk and waited for the "friendly (or at least, that's how I perceived him at the time)" bus boy to come talk to me.

"We're sitting over at the sushi bar," I gestured to the claustrophobic corner, "and just wanted to know if we could move to that table." Mind you, I said this in my best manners, displaying magnanimous kindness in doing so given the circumstances.

The friendly-in-disguise-only boy glances at the table, and says, "Sure! Let me just go get it cleaned up!"

Things were looking up for us! Or so I thought. But the dark clouds just kept rolling in.

After another twenty minutes of watching our table not get cleaned up, a clearly bored waitress comes up and says, "You ready to order? Or WHAT?"

I said, "Thank you so much for your gracious offer, but we're waiting on that table over there. Have a nice day!" Under my breath (because good manners count, after all), I added, "And we still haven't seen a menu."

Unbothered by our suffering and grumbling stomachs, she walks off, slower than a one-legged turtle.

Then I hear the bell jingle above the door. Two women enter the restaurant. The friendly-posing boy races over (Oh...I see...he RACES toward them, but took his sweet time leaving me hanging at the front desk for minutes!) and chats with them, giving them excited nods. Then he looks at OUR table. He looks at us. The women look at their fingernails.

The boy--visibly getting more crazed in appearance by the second--rushes back to OUR table and finally cleans it. He looks our way, shooting daggers, then looks back toward the indifferent women with love in his eyes.

I stand up. Ready to race the women to OUR table if necessary. The sushi boy narrows his eyes at me. 

Ennio Morricone music plays over the speaker. The Sushi Kid looks back at the women, smiles. SMILES! Looks back in our direction and glowers.

I take one step toward our table. Then another. 

My daughter remains seated. Possibly worried that I'm about to get attacked.

She was right.

Finally, downright menacing sushi boy sprints toward me. Holding a long sushi knife!

He said, "I forgot about the reservation at that table."

Things got a bit blurry then until we got back to my daughter's car. Shock is a funny thing.

"Man," I said, shaking my head, "I can't BELIEVE how that guy attacked me! Did you see the knife in his hand?"

My daughter said, "You mean the super nice boy with the huge smile who apologized profusely?"

"What? That's not what happened at all! He was downright mean, arrogant, and one step away from gutting me!"

"You mean when he continued to apologize and you stormed out of the restaurant yelling, 'That's uncool! That's UNCOOL, MAN! THANKS A LOT! THANKS A LOT FOR NOTHING!!!!'"

"Clearly, daughter, you're delusional. That's NOT what happened at all! He attacked me vocally first, then physically! And...and...he wasn't a boy at all. He was this HUGE, scary guy with two knives in his hands and murder-lust in his eyes!"

"Hmmm. I must've missed that when I was apologizing for your hissy-fit. Whatever, Dad."

Sigh. Maybe my daughter's defense mechanisms are making her even more delusional than I thought.

But hope springs eternal. No, we never did get sushi that day. But we're going to try and go there again in a couple weeks for my daughter's birthday. But just in case, the guy wants to go round two with me, I'm going to wear a baseball hat, a fake handlebar mustache and sideburns, and speak in a funny German accent.

While I've got delusional people on my mind, there's more than a few running around in my horror suspense thriller, Godland. But, hey, that's what makes it fun! (Hmmm. Maybe I should redefine my sense of "fun.")

 

Scariest Halloween EVER!

Boo! Boils and ghouls, I didn't mean to scare you with the photo! BOO! Ha, did it again. Gotcha! Sorry. 

But I'm scared, too.

We're a couple days away from the election that will definitely change history one way or another and I'd be reticent if I didn't say something. I might make a few haters along the way, but that's okay, certainly nothing new. 

I'd love to get back to the day when people can enjoy political debates with family and friends. Remember when it was sorta fun, even healthy?

Last week's presidential debate was actually--to my surprise--pretty much a real debate. Clearly, President Trump listened to his advisors and calmed down, got off the steroids and power drinks, and only several times blew his orange top. An early Christmas miracle!

I can talk about all of the "fake news (Trump's favorite term when anything doesn't go his way)" facts  (ahem!) President Trump cited (i.e., lies). Or I can talk about the creepy way he didn't address the camera/the viewers. Perhaps I could mention how he avoids, dodges, ducks, deflects into defense regarding Big Questions. But I'm not. 

I've already lost one friend over this stupidity. I'm sick of it.

What I will say is Trump's handling of COVID-19 was (and is) negligent at best. It's been widely documented that he chose to ignore it, was quoted as saying, "I don't want to cause panic."

Bully for him. And bullshit to him for downplaying it even after he was diagnosed with it. Not every person can afford a million dollars worth of the best doctors and medicine. And he unbelievably wants to do away with medical insurance for those with pre-existing conditions. Probably not the best time, Mr. President.

Why doesn't Trump ask anyone who's lost a loved one to COVID what they think of his marginalization of the many, many--too very many--deaths? Especially when if handled early and properly, many lives could have been saved.

COVID-19 doesn't really wake you up until it's personal. In the early days, I thought, "sure, I'll wear a mask, I'll be fine, we'll weather through it." That's simply not the case.

Every day, I worry about my wife, a teacher. She deals with students. A warrior. Still okay, knock on wood.

But at least twelve people I care about have been knocked down by this awful disease and the tally's increasing. One of my best friends is still struggling with it after many months. My daughter's dear, sweet, generous friend went from being diagnosed with COVID to dying within a week. 

Yet, there's Trump out there negating Dr. Fauci's advice, saying he's "a nice guy, but doesn't know what he's talking about." Calling him an "idiot," despite being the foremost contagious disease expert in the country who happens to be on Trump's "support team," but, hey, let's not nit-pick.

Lately, Trump's been out campaigning (understandable), but his rallies are not safe havens (not acceptable). "Super spreader events," some pundits call them. During one such groovy happening in Nebraska two days ago, people gathered via bus to listen to our president rant (and, I hope, danced again to the Village People. Only thing that could've made that better is if Mike Pence, Rudy Giuliani, and Mitch McConnell would've joined him in full VP garb.) People were apparently stranded afterward in freezing temps, the buses not able to keep up. Many were hospitalized for "various reasons."

Glad someone's happy.

Please understand Biden's not my ideal president. President Bartlett from "The West Wing" is. But since Bartlett's a fictional character, I'll take the only other choice who won't lead us further into despair and death and fear and hatred and racism and deficit.

Golly.

Is it to much to ask for a president who acts, you know, slightly presidential? How about a president who doesn't constantly bully, induce fear, and divide the country further with border-line racism? Or maybe a president who doesn't mock impaired people or insult those brave men and women who've fallen in the line of duty while serving their country? Someone who doesn't have a slew of sexual assault/harassment allegations against him? Perhaps a president who's more interested in serving the public instead of lining his pockets with more money? Wouldn't that be a nice change of pace. 

Ooh! I got it! How about a leader who doesn't spit all over democracy? Hey, anyone who doesn't have as grating of a screaming voice (and has anyone ever seen our president less than angry? SOOOO honorable) worse than Adam Sandler's affected "funny" voices while gargling broken glass is a step up, I kinda think. 

After passing another tax break bill to the rich, this is the president who was quoted as saying (at a dinner party), "I just made you all more rich." 

I know some people will vote for Trump because they're against abortion and that's what Republicans support. If pro-life is your belief, stand by it. Stay solid, don't back down, more power to you, that's what our country stands for. But consider this...um, how many abortions do you think Trump might have been responsible for given his penchant for porn stars and Russian hookers? 

Kanye would be better than four more years of this guy.

I remember thinking that we'd never again elect a worse president than George W's reign of dimwittedness and neglect. Man, was I dumb.

Guys, this is worse than depressing, the current state of "politics" is running our country into the ground.

But I'm an American. If the outcome next Tuesday is not what I'd prefer? I'll still support it, that's what our country does. That's what Democracy is supposed to be about. Look it up. (Trump didn't, apparently skipped school that day.)

Alright, I'm done now. No matter how the election turns out, I won't revisit the awful topic of politics again. 

But...VOTE. Vote like the wind! Vote your arses off! Make a difference either way you lean! Despite the electoral college ridiculousness, let's make a difference.

Hey, happy Halloween, boo!