Fatale Abstraction

I met a couple foodies for 1/2 price Bento box night at Sushi Yama at 8989 Forest Lane in Dallas, Wednesday.

I arrived early and backed my car into a shady spot and read for about 45 minutes waiting for 6pm to arrive. Next door to Sushi Yama is an English pub, and on the other side is an Irish pub. I've wonder if there's ever been a brawl in the parking lot. Prolly not. Prolly no one Irish OR English goes either place.

I sat and focused on my (very good) book, generally, but people were pulling up and occasionally distracting me. They got out of their vehicles and walked to the door of one or the other bars with such resolution, I found myself wondering if any of those folks had applied themselves at any point in the day with so much purpose as that with which they hauled their carcasses into the bar. I sort of associate social drinking with leisure and ease, rather than a desperate need to slake a thirst, so it seemed strange to see people walking toward the bar with the same vigor they'd have if they were walking into a court case they knew they were going to win.

One woman climbed out of her truck and tucked her ugly handbag into her armpit, adjusted her tube top and sashayed her ass right on in, trailing the naff of desperation that is the earmark of the apocalyptic white trash divorcee. Her hair looked amazing.

In 1983.

Jeans didn't fit right. She wasn't any of that, not even the bag of chips. I just wondered what she expected to accomplish, poor thing. I wanted to rassel her to the ground and give her a mini makeover right there, but she had about a foot on me and obviously needed a drink, so she might not have been a willing subject.

The bento box was amazing. It's an array of sushi/tempura/teriyaki-type stuff, and is normally about $22, but Wednesdays it's $11. Coolness. I haven't been there in about 4 or 5 years, so it was nice to go back. In a bento box, you get small portions of a lot of different things. True, some of the things you'll get are stuff you'd never order, but also, sometimes you discover you like something you never would have tried without prompting.

The restaurant was full and most tables were all getting the bento boxes. This is the kind of place I imagine is very much like a restaurant in Japan. It's small, the tables are relatively small and people are sorta crammed together and you all just kind of work around it.

Spilling back into the night a little after 8pm, toob top mama was having an animated verbal exchange with another bar-goer involving lots of non-Sunday-school language. I guess she got her drink on, alright.

I'll bet if I go back to Sushi Yama in 20 years for a Bento box and wait in the parking lot between 5 & 6, I'll see that same woman in that same get-up.