Once, many moons ago, I went to a nifty exhibit of Japanese postcards culled from the collection of a rich Bostonian who had a yen for taking home thousands of Japanese art objects (I bought the exhibition catalog too; it’s on the bookshelf in the bedroom, bottom right). I never really understood where the museum had been, seeing as I just went there once and was confused by the subways and such. Now I work right across the street. And that building has a cafe. And I ate there. As you may have guessed.
Luck is an odd place, being big, sort of empty, and heavily concentrated on fried foods. It’s almost like a model-T color joke, except with fried food, and with once exception – the beef stew, which I ate. It had a lot of very softly-stewed beef bits in (brisket, I think) with too much fat left on. Also some potatoes and carrots, which were good. Mixed with the accompanying rice, it was a satisfying lunch.
Luck is also quiet and peaceful. After eating I fell asleep for 10 minutes, not noticing when the waitress cleared my plate. I felt funny when I woke up, like I had finally become a real salaryman. Then I noticed the two guys at the table across from me, both of whom were sleeping. I imagine this is an awkward conversation to have the first time, a hurdle to get over in their relationship. “Hey man, I’ve got something to ask you. Don’t get mad or nothin’, but do you mind if I, like, take a nap right here in front of you?” “No, that’s cool. I’ll catch some z’s too. It’s better than going back to the office, right?” “Yeah.”
“zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”
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