Eyes Wide Shut

Recently I found myself, not unlike some Pixar lemming, flying off a cliff and meeting a fate I never imagined for myself (if it's Pixar it makes it slightly less harrowing than if it were say...Japanimation?).

I had Korean BBQ.

It reminded me of attending sporting events in high school.  Not because of all the carnage spread out before me - sports weren't really that intense in Butterfly Town USA (i.e. Pacific Grove, California) - but because, truth be told, I was really just there for the company.

In high school I'd find myself bundled up and shivering in the bleachers while gossiping with my pals about how much I wanted to bang so-and-so's brains out (meanwhile I hadn't even kissed another human being...All Talk, Chapter 1 of my autobiography).  I'd happily wander to and from the snack shack with different friends while touchdowns were scored, ties broken, and overtime entered.  I was oblivious.  I was there to stalk crushes, drink hot chocolate, and snicker at filthy jokes.  The fact that I always left with zero sensation in my hands and feet - one notch away from Voyage of the Mimi style hypothermia - was a small price to pay for a night out with the gang.

I awoke the other morning, after visiting Chosun Galbee in Koreatown, with a mild case of fetus face and a descending colon like a snare drum.  As I headed into my day, after gulping down copious amounts of water and flax oil (obviously), I found myself full of the joys of living.  While the food from the night before had imposed a lock down on my digestive track (and still left me wondering what the hell people are going on about re: Korean BBQ), the company had delivered a shot of joy right to the vein.  Sitting and blithering on about the good, the bad, and the ugly in our lives, made the fishy soy bean curd and the gristly meat fade into the background.  I was happy to plough through my bowl of brown rice and sip my Sapporo while keeping this company.

While I have zero intention of returning to Chosun Galbee, if my posse wants to meet next week at Buca di Beppo?  I'll still go.  Sometimes, surprisingly, it's not about the food.

Though, let's be honest, next time?  I'll pick the damn restaurant...believe it!

final word:  Skip Chosun Galbee.  Unless, of course, some of your favorite people in the world want to go with you.  In that case, order a side of brown rice and a large Sapporo and focus on the friendship.  Cheers!