Robert Bush 6:31 p.m., May 18
I awoke from my daily nap a little later than usual that fate-less Wednesday evening. It was pushing 6 p.m. and my obnoxious tummy was howling for something of substance. Unfortunately for my personal famine, my pantry echoed with emptiness, and screamed of lazy bachelor. Now the question was where will I hunt down my banquet for the evening? Mexican, Italian, and Antarctican food were all out of the question because I wanted to keep my dinner varieties fresh, and I had been eating those cultures’ foods just days prior. (Everything except Antarctican; I made that up to make you wonder. My guess is Antarctican food is probably just snow-cones and whale blubber.) Anyway, I suddenly had an extreme hankering for sushi, so dinner had been decided. I donned my finest flip-flops, cargo shorts, and t-shirt and scurried out the door with some sushi on my mind and my mind on some sushi….laid back…
Upon arrival at the Sushi Bar (located right across the street from the Westfield Mall in El Cajon), I bellied up at the bar and ordered a Heineken to sip on while I inspected the menu. I was introduced to this particular Sushi Bar by "somebody that I used to know,” and her memory started to haunt me a little bit as I glanced around the joint. Luckily, those revolting memories faded fast as I heard the bells of the entrance jingle an attentive tune, and in sauntered one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever been in the same scope with. White doves flew up behind her as she walked in, the music playing came to an abrupt halt, and the room became wildly illuminated by her presence. (At least that’s what happened in my mind.)
Her blonde hair flowed and my eyebrows rose. I then slowly lowered my chopsticks that I was using to play air drums with to try to conceal my man-child behaviors. Meanwhile, she nestled herself in the lonely corner booth by her solo-self as many arbitrary thoughts then began to dash through my mind. This looked like a real woman! She has to be around my age, 26. She looks like she has a career. Probably a hot secretary. I bet she has a wide collection of scented bubble bath soaps at home. I should go talk to her. She’s way out of my league. Could she be the one, my future ex-wife? She’s alone, but what if she’s meeting somebody? What if she’s meeting her boyfriend or something? Her boyfriend is probably a Chippendales dancer. If he saw me hitting on her, he would probably challenge me to a dance off, and I would surely be defeated if it came down to that, because my moves are far from Jaggeresque.
Fortunately for me the Chippendales dancer of whom I made up in my head never showed, and she remained alone drinking on her lemon water. As for me, I remained at the bar with my metaphorical skirt hiked up, and ordered a Philadelphia Roll with another Heineken to wash it down. I figured if I was to talk to this dame, I would need some help from the bottle of the courageous potion known as booze. I wondered what her story was. I wondered if she had a thing for guys in their mid-twenties that struggle to grow facial hair and who occasionally barter with the ice-cream sales associate to save fifty cents; I could only hope.
Many moments passed, and by this point I was desperately searching for a sign or opening. Our meals were nearing their climaxes and the hour glass was rapidly dwindling. Then I remembered my fortune cookie would be coming with my bill--perfect, I thought! I will walk where the fortune cookie guides me.
Soon after, my bill arrived, and my fortune cookie lay atop with hopefully some wise advice. I tore open the package and eagerly busted the cookie apart to find….nothing; no piece of advice, no lucky numbers, no fortune. The cookie was as empty as David Spade’s fan club. At that moment I gazed back to the appealing woman’s booth, and she had vanished; gone forever. All I could do was hang my head, crack a smile at the apparent state of affairs, and shake my head. I was left with a lousy bill of $18 and smashed pieces of a cookie that held no words of some much needed dharma wisdom. I missed my encounter and I missed my fortune. I guess that’s just the way the fortune cookie crumbles sometimes.
Post Script: I referenced 3 different songs in this story. The first to name all three will be awarded with a tasty California Roll provided by said Sushi Bar. However, you will pay for shipping and handling fees, and it will arrive by e-mail in 2-8 weeks.