When I go to the Chinese
buffet I go hungry. How hungry? Well, hungry enough to sample everything on the
buffet line and then some. There was one time in particular when I ate so much
that at the end of the night they discovered one of their waitresses was
missing. Naturally, they suspected me.
I was strung up in the air by my feet, with my mouth hanging open. The
manager demanded accusingly, “What yoo do with mai waitress? Yoo eat her
too?”
How
awkward. The situation turned into a personal crisis when they called in
oceanographer Matt Hooper, and he arrived and began measuring my mouth and
checking for bite radiuses. Next, he wanted to slice my stomach open and search
for remains of the missing Chinese waitress. I was unable to protest from the
dizziness of hanging upside down, and I remained motionless like a dead fish.
Then the mayor arrived and I heard him say under his breath:
“Let's
be reasonable, huh? This is not the time or the place to perform some kind of a
half-assed autopsy on a patron... And I'm not going to stand here and watch
that thing cut open and see that little Chinese woman spill out all over the
dock!”
One of the waiters handed Hooper a flashlight and he shined it into my throat,
while two more waiters began to shake my suspended body violently. It wasn’t
long before I felt a bulge working its way up from my rather large belly.
Hooper shouted encouragement to the two waiters. “I see something! Shake,
shake, shake!”
Finally I convulsed and gagged, and amid a rather loud belch, out popped the
missing Chinese waitress. She fell to the floor below, shaken and drenched and
gasping for air.
“Why yoo do dat? I not on menu, mista pig! I go home now and take shower.”
Awkward! I looked up rather embarrassed at my accusers and shrugged my shoulders.
“Isn’t that weird? I have no idea how she got in there!” I don’t think they
bought it.
The next time I arrived there, I heard the sheriff tell the manager nervously,
“You’re going to need a bigger buffet.” I also noticed a new sign on the wall,
a disclaimer. “All you can eat…but waitresses not on menu.” Oy, how
embarrassing.
A
family member, who has seen me both dining on small dinners at home and other
times making 3 to 4 trips to the buffet line and sushi bar, told me that my
dining habits were a mystery. How was it that I could, in some instances, be
satisfied with the small quantity of a frozen dinner, while at other times at a
Chinese buffet eat like there was no tomorrow? It was a conundrum, he claimed,
and quite possibly a paradox.
I explained to my bewildered relative that a meal is like sex. Settling down
with a frozen dinner (thawed and heated, of course) was akin to having sex with
one woman in a monogamous relationship. I loved the one small dinner. I enjoyed
the one small dinner. I was satisfied with the one small dinner. The one small
dinner was all that I needed to get through the night. But unleashing me at a
Chinese buffet, however, was akin to setting me loose at an orgy with a wide
selection, a varied collection, of gorgeous and generous women. With the one
dinner, all that I wanted/needed was the one woman to get me by. But at the
buffet, the metaphoric orgy, there was temptation everywhere and I wanted to
have sex with as many dishes as possible, as many times as possible. It is
simple: Give me one dish and one dish makes me happy. But give me unlimited
dishes, and multiple options, and I am ecstatic.
If what I’ve just described somehow gets used in the next American Pie movie I
sure as Shinola better get royalties!
So there you have it, one of the reasons why I so love the Chinese buffet.
Visualize me now with a broad satisfied smile, and an even broader belly. What
you may find odd is that when I was younger I was not a fan of Chinese food. I
was more of a pizza and burger man and I’d normally have to be persuaded to go
for Chinese food. Yet now I just can’t seem to get enough of it.
Stranger still is that in my teen years, I did not care at all for Asian women
in a romantic sense. Their features simply weren’t attractive to me then--what
a fool I was! Now I am enamored with them and I adore their exotic features,
their mannerism, their culture, their style, their gracefulness, and their
sensuous loveliness, et all. An Asian woman, whether she be Cambodian, Chinese,
Japanese, Burmese, etc., is a special woman indeed. Not only are they precious
but I’ll bet they can cook!
About
a decade and a half ago, when I worked in the retail field as a department
manager, I had one particular employee who was a bundle of energy and delightful
to work with. Her name was Thanh, a Vietnamese girl, and she was bright, sunny,
slender and elegant. If you look up the meaning of her name, those adjectives
are exactly what the name describe. Thanh often bounced around me as we worked,
always gleaming her cheerful nature and ever-present smile. It turns out she
had other ideas for me, though. One night, Thanh had me to her home for a
family gathering, a dinner party that included not just her parents but friends
and many relatives. I knew she had a crush on me, but I hadn’t know how deeply
it went, and as a manager with responsibilities (and workplace caution) I had
chosen not act on my employee’s crush. Little did I know how far she wished to
take it.
Her parents questioned me extensively. “Why yoo single? Why no marry? Do yoo
wanna to marry? Yoo like Vietnamese girls? They cook for yoo, treat you
special, love yoo for rest of life.”
Love me long time?
It seemed as if they were interviewing me as a potential husband for Thanh.
Then I realized, it didn’t only feel like that, they were! She was cute, she
sure was cute and sweet, but I kept my interests professional. Maybe that was a
mistake, and a missed opportunity. At the time, though, I did not think I was
ready; not for an Oriental wife, not for any wife at that time.
But enough digressing. Are you hungry? Let us return to the Chinese buffet,
shall we?
Whenever
I go to my favorite buffet, either with friends for dinner or lunch by myself,
the waitresses greet me with familiarity each time, for by now they know me,
and my habits well. The sushi chef announces when she sees me that she had
plenty of my favorite sushi varieties prepared. Several of the women are quite
cute, some are very pretty, and a handful are downright beautiful. One day I
had gone there alone for lunch. I was reading a science fiction novel at the
time, a Star Wars novel to be exact, and I brought it with me to read while I
ate. Yes, I know, I’m a geek. What can I say? I value my Me-Time, a time to
relax and ease into my imagination, and what better way to do that than with a
science fiction book over my favorite meal?
One of the waitresses, Xin, a Chinese woman who was beautiful and elegant,
refilled my diet soda and noticed the book I was reading. She recognized the cover
title and asked,
“Yoo like Stah Wah?”
“Yes
I do, I’m a big fan. Do you like sword fights and space battles?”
“Ever-body
like that, it fun,” she answered, and wiped the space between us as if holding
a lightsaber, with a “Wooosh…woooosh!” sound.
She
then extended her hand and pointer finger out as if it were a laser gun, and
mouthed her imitation of the gun noises in the movies.
“Choo-choo-choo!”
Then she went on her way with a smile.
Another day, another lunch, and I showed up with a notebook and a pen. The
waitress who arrived to take my drink order before I headed up to the buffet,
saw my writing gear and promptly noted that: “You write so much, I see you
write all time. Yoo write new blog now, new story?”
Ah, they all know me so well. They know my eating styles, what sushi rolls I
prefer, what drink I always get, what I like to read, and what I so often
write. They may also know which of their own I’ve had my eye on most of all.
There was one woman in particular who stands out above the rest, who radiates
her loveliness like an aura around her; around her vicinity, wherever she
stands. She is the woman I look forward to seeing most when I go there, the
girl who most commands my attention, fascination, and interest. Her name
is…wait for it, I love the way it sounds…
Mi-Cha.
Mi-Cha, Mi-Cha, Mi-Cha…oh how I crave thee. She was so cute, so pretty, so
beautiful, oh so breathtaking.
She is sweet, petite…
Just
a few inches above five feet,
Well
groomed and always neat,
Talking
with her was always a treat,
A
special woman I’d never mistreat,
A
gem who would make my meal complete,
A
woman so special, so sweet and petite; rinse, lather, and repeat!
Now, this is not Mi-Cha, but it reminds me of her. This here is my favorite
Asian actress Zhang Ziyi, and Mi-Cha's face is very similar:
Although her hair is much longer, like hers:
Again, not Mi-Cha, but fairly close:
I
tell you, I wanted to make love to her even more than before. When
finished, I wanted to make love to that dress too! When I inquired about
the dress, Mi-Cha told me that her new look was the custom of her
people, and she wore it to honor her background. I told her that I
appreciated the gesture, and admired her for it. Her smile showed pride
in her ancestry, and her gait showed confidence.
She looked a little bit like this,
...and a lot like this:
Somebody
once expressed to me their observation that Asian women kept to their own
culture and mode of dress and made little attempt to learn complete English or
assimilate into American ways. “I don’t like how they live and work here yet
refuse to be Americanized,” was what that person had said to me.
“Is
he crazy?” I thought. “Stay Asianized, Mi-Cha, stay Asianized!”
I
once joked with Mi-Cha that they should put my photo in a frame on the wall
above the front counter, since I was their most frequent and loyal patron. She
smiled but remained quiet, unsure, as she did not quite understand the gist of
my attempt at wit, and evidently the concept of hanging photos of
patrons---famous or otherwise—was as foreign to her as the language of the
land. Her English is touch and go, you understand, and I’d say that the nature
of my joke was lost in translation.
I
knew that Mi-Cha’s lack of full capabilities of the English language could make
conversations and dating difficult, so I hesitated making a move. There were
other reasons that held me back from seeking out a relationship at that time,
related to difficulties in life and career at that time. Suffice it to say, I
procrastinated. To be honest when I am in a relationship I prefer to be able to
give a partner all of me, not just the small parts left over.
But
still, the feelings were growing. Her smiles were no longer forced, they were
warm and genuine. Although lengthy conversation remained elusive, we found ways
to chat briefly anyway, and I found ways to make her laugh. We often passed
like two ships in the night though, coming close, wanting to get closer, but
yet still too far apart to meet hull to hull. The sexual tension was increasing
dynamically, and the buffet table was becoming more and more tempting to me,
possibly to both of us.
Mi-Cha,
Mi-Cha, Mi-Cha…
How
glad I am to meet ya
Your
beauty is your prized feat-cha
How
much English I’d like to teach ya
On
my lap I’d like to seat ya
Like
gold I’d surely treat ya!
I was ready to throw language barriers to the wind. It was time to man-up and
simply ask the girl out. She might even say yes. Stranger things have happened.
Then again, there was the language barrier issue that could be a problem…or was
I merely making excuses by that point?
Then finally, one day the two ships bumped hulls, and the flares began firing.
We were standing close to the buffet table when it happened. I looked down
toward her, charming her with my smile, and her lashes fluttered and her eyes
glowed back at me. The ships came together, our bodies touched, and touched
again. Hungry patrons side-stepped out of our way as our bodies created
friction and the heat rose.
We embraced and our mouths came together, our lips touching, sending the
electricity of our long withheld passions through our finally unchained bodies.
Her hands were around my neck, pulling me closer. My hands were around her
sides, closing in behind her, rubbing her back as our bodies came together
almost as one. I moved forward and she moved back, pulling me with her, pulling
me closer, kissing me hard. I pushed her onto the buffet table and followed her
body with mine, resting on top of hers and filling her with my affection, in
more ways than one. She pulled me even harder against her gyrating body. My
hands went into the food tray, and before long strands of lo mein and tasty
sauce were on me and on her; on her bare chest as my hands slid over her soft,
saucy breasts. I knew that what we were doing, and where we were doing it, was
far from sanitary and that the Health Department would not approve.
She must have read my mind. “Yoo no worry about food,” she assured me, “We
throw away, no one eat food we touch on our love buffet.”
My hands were brushing her cheeks now, lightly touching them, lightly stroking
the side of her face and neck, following that with soft kisses and the warmth
of my tongue on her ear. It was enough for her to want to be closer to the feel
of those hands, and she moved the side of her face into my open palm. I ran my
fingers over her ear lobes, and then back to her mouth, trailing sweet and sour
sauce across the outline of her jaw. She took my fingers in and licked the
tantalizing sauce from my digits, enjoying the flavor as well as how it drove
me wild. She kissed the side of my face as I kissed the side of hers, and
kissed my ear as I had kissed hers
Enough of the appetizers, it was time for the main course. More of our clothes
came off and were cast onto the floor beneath us.
I rubbed creamy sauce over her bare chest, sliding my hands over them,
caressing, squeezing, delighting them, and licking them, consuming the sauce
from her tantalizing, delicious body. My tongue followed the trail of sauce
over her breasts, her stomach, and into her belly button. I licked her clean as
I would a plate after a delicious meal, making her my delicious meal, and
followed with my tongue down below for another delicious meal below her belly
button.
I
did state that I delighted in Chinese food, didn’t I? It was then that I
delighted in her, and caused her delight that made her body shudder. It was
then that I recognized another edition to her daily diet; she was a pineapple
eater—and I will leave that to your imagination, but it was in the taste.
Her
thighs opened to me further and I moved myself forward, entering her juicy Mala
Tofu with my hardened egg roll. Until that point she was a Thai girl, with
possibly some Korean blood in her, most likely some Chinese food in her, and
definitely at that moment, some American-Jewish in her as well.
A
lot of Jewish.
But
not anymore.
More.
Not anymore.
More.
Not anymore.
More,
more, more--again and again, rinse lather and repeat…
Slick
with her own flavoring, my egg roll slid in and out of the exquisite dish in
metaphoric fashion. The two dishes, being cooked as one, reached maximum
cooking temperature, and with the roar and bang of rockets firing on the
Chinese New Year, she came to fruition and came hard she did. I was finished as
well, and introduced a new dish to our private menu: The “Cumin sum yung
gurll”. The fulfillment of the main course, enjoyed by both at the same time,
was powerful and explosive. Perhaps the love making had drained me of all
bodily fluids, because I was thirsty and parched. I needed a drink and fast!
Where was my waitress?
Suddenly I was interrupted, jarred to attention and reality by the waitress at my table.
“Yoo want refill Mista Shine? I give more drink
for yoo; yoo look like yoo like more drink,” the waitress poured more fruity
fluid into my drinking cup, breaking my concentration and disrupting the
current daydream that I had allowed to entertain itself and circulate within my
mind.
“Thank you, hon,” I said as I raised the cup and
drank from it between chews from the dish on the table before me.
I spotted Mi-Cha crossing the length of the
room, leading a family to an open table and handing them menus. Oh, how sweet
it would be to touch that precious woman, to have her in my arms. If only I had
ever had the courage to make a move and ask her out, instead of merely watching
her from across the room. Then the buffet counter scenario might have more of a
chance of being more than a daydream and a tall tale in my blog.
If only…only if…if only.
So I continued to enjoy her beauty from afar, and the ‘what if” query remained
unanswered.
I mentioned earlier that her name was “beautiful girl” in Korean. It could also
have been Chin-Sun to me, “precious”. Or it could have been Mali, “flower”, or
Milai, “calm and peaceful” in Thai; Xin Niu, “elegant girl” in Chinese; or in
Japanese: Takara, Aiko, or Sachiko--“treasure”, “child of love”, and “bliss”
respectively. Instead she was more like Haruk, meaning “far away, or distant”.
It seemed like I was at a tennis match watching the
play by play action, my head going from side to side to follow the ball each
time it crossed the court…but it was no tennis match. It was Mi-Cha walking
back and forth between tasks. Each time she crossed the room my attention was
ensnared, my eyes hooked and captured, and my gaze trailed after as if dragged
by the hem of her Oriental dress.
On a return trip that took her closer again to my table, I marveled once again
at how her gorgeous Asian face was accentuated by her flowing dark hair, how
her sensuous body was accentuated by her exotic Oriental dress, and how her
delicate hand was accentuated by the rock on her finger...
The second finger, of
her left hand.
She had been single when we first met, but
now she was engaged.
Damn. Too slow, too damned slow.
Take it from me:
Don’t wait to take a chance, because the
chance won’t wait for you.
Thanks
for reading my random, rambling thoughts. I hope this blog wasn't too
long to handle but in this case, size matters. Do you have any thoughts
of
your own after reading my blog? If not, let me inspire some…
-Do you speak any of the Asian languages, or have you lived in Asia?
-What is your favorite thing to eat at your
favorite Chinese, Japanese, or other kind of Asian restaurant?
-What, if any, Asian nation would you most
like to visit?
-What is your favorite film set in the
Orient?
-Do you have a favorite Asian actor or
actress?
~Shine
