WHERE DO YOU WANT TO EAT? I DON'T CARE. THAI? NO. I GIVE UP.
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VISIT 6

Much like visits one thru five, Suika delivered. I love the place.

Saturday, noontime, was sparkling. I saddled up the wheels and headed to the restaurant with my dear friends Su Jin + Jeong Wan Lee. I prepared myself to be swallowed by lies. Koreans are the worst.

Su Jin is a lasting beauty, her charm and giddiness, grow on you the more time spent with her. By lasting, I mean she is real, not a touched-up glamour magazine cover. She’s delightful. My cat occasionally lashes out at her.

Jeong Wan simply put, is a great guy. In the future when he’s dispatched back to Korea, he takes the time to write a personal note to each of his friends and acquaintances. He cares about people—never to a fault.
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Breaking bread or twirling noodles with this pair is a blessing, I’m grateful. And besides, it’s always filled with laughter.
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I find there are two kinds of dining dates:
​​1. The type for the food.
2. The type because we are supposed to connect.
I find when eaters are mostly North American; eating is a rushed endeavour during hectic days. Plates of food aren’t to be shared. Shovelling food into your mouth as fast as you can, fearing it being your last meal—is commonplace. We’re stressed, rushed, and stupid. Not all of course.

When it comes to food, some people become mentally disorganized. Much like Costco Shoppers; Ikea Shoppers; and anyone, riding BC Ferries.
​
I’ll add a third category
3. Client lunches. 
Which usually, don’t involve, rushing, but instead; provide a means to escape the drudgery of the work day. These lunches are often doused in alcohol—if the client is game?

OMG, I’m on the ferry. The ride is 1.5 hours. Must eat... must eat... Do these jeans make me look fat?
​

Never answer.
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Back to the fibbing Koreans: It was time to share a wonderful array of taste sensations. Our server broke into the conversation we were enjoying to deliver our soon-to-be-discovered scrumptious selections to our MESS HALL TABLE.

  • Beef Cutlet, perfectly cooked, sliced into shareable bite-sized melt-in-your-mouth morsels.
  • Hellz Chicken, with a side plate for the sauce, our affable server's suggestion: as the safe way to go.

I grabbed a piece of chicken. It slipped from my fingers—pirouetting into the flaming moat protecting us from the outside world. My chicken lingered in the heat of the sauce. I pulled it out, took a bite, my mouth was infused by an inferno of death. I cried out in agony.

Actually, borrowing a page from the dishonest Asians, I lied: it wasn’t all that hot, instead; tangy, with a sweet after taste, yummy.
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WE ORDERED MORE
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  • Yellowtail Carpaccio
  • Mackerel Sushi
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​Yummier, a fantastic day with great friends, no protecting our food from the other inmates, no lining up to the trough—or the IKEA EXIT—because they are giving away hot dogs (almost). 
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The place was packed. Almost half of the diners were Asian children that I’d guess would be under the age of 8. For the future border line-up destroyers who have a penchant for alternative facts—they were amazingly well-behaved.

BEFORE PRESSING FORWARD TO PART 3

I’ve dined with people from the YARD before—it’s usually entertaining—we don’t share food. My food is mine. We protect what’s ours. The odd inmate, one in particular, each time we dine together: likes to share with the server, vocally; every food he hates, detailing why... it’s like being with an awkward uncle—definitely (un)enjoyable.

When the food arrives when dining with YARD-MATES: talking usually ceases, we’re there to eat. I prefer to talk. 

Isn't food mean't to be a prop to bring us together?

To bring love + joy?

​Don’t you think we all need to take a deep breath and slow down—learn from each other?

By sharing, I don’t mean: We’ve opened up our relationship.
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INMATE 397 at times shares these things.

I think those things are meant to be private, and kind of yucky, at least to me. 
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Intimate life is meant to be intimate. There are roughly 7.5 billion people on this planet—a lot of sex happens (even on ferries—probably at Ikea) daily—sharing yours makes you sound... finish my thought yourself.

​Wait, I may be interested if you have a story about doing it at: Costco; Ikea; or on a Ferry.
​
Come to think of it: I may have done it once on a BC Ferry. 

Or, did I? ​
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