Don't You Forget About Me

My regular Monday lunch buddy forgot all about me last Monday.

Fair enough; it was Labor Day and, according to him, felt like a Sunday. So today he wasn't allowed to screw up.

We were both starving when he came to get me.

He was in the mood for Chinese, trying to talk me into Joy Garden ("Come on, let's have some Americanized Chinese!") before driving to Full Kee ("Come on, let's have some...").

Walking in we saw all the flyers written in Chinese on the front window and he stopped to read them.

I don't think they're meant for us, I informed him.

Ogling the whole roasted ducks and chickens complete with their roasted beaks in the front case is a great way to whet your appetite before eating.

The barbecued pork that hangs with the poultry, striped with fat, is positively mouth-watering.

We needed no enticement.

He had two weeks of relationship stories to unload while eating his scallops in brown sauce and I was working on my chopstick skills with my spicy Peking chicken.

The funniest moment came when he asked me, of all people, "How do you communicate what you need to say to your partner and not just want you want to say?"

How do they get ship models in those tiny bottle openings?

Dessert was ordered in the shape of Jin Dui, those sesame balls with red bean paste that are so irresistible, but by the time they arrived, we were too full.

Fortune cookies were all we could manage and mine seemed particularly applicable.

You are going on well with your business.


That just might be true, although it has absolutely nothing to do with earning a living.