NAIVITÉ

NAIVITÉ

On an unusual summery evening, my 4-year old son decided he really needed to have sushi for dinner. He claimed hot food wouldn’t be welcome by his stomach. Getting hold of some friends and family, we all agreed our best bet to savor some authentic Japanese chow was at the Asian district, not too far from downtown. I suggested heading to an eatery on the main street of that borough which embraced some of the best ethnic restaurants. The downside was the place bordered the city’s red light district.

In hindsight, most people must have thought it would be amusing to have dinner at such place. You know how curious folks we can be.

At 7:45 p.m., we all were there.

As we walked past a bamboo screen, we were greeted in Japanese by the owner/cook/waiter/cashier and possibly, busboy. It sounded: irasshaimase. We had absolute no idea what it meant, but assumed he had said “good-evening, welcome”.

Having sat on the floor, we ordered. After minutes, that felt like seconds – the conversation was kosher – a colorful large dish was placed in front of us. Fishes, lobster, squid and shrimp handcrafted in appealing bite-sized pieces decorated the already dressed-up wooden plate.

After the meal and the many domestic beers, we kept on talking at the table.

Needless to say that the beer made us more cheerful, talkative and gregarious. So we were laughing and telling funny and embarrassing stories about our pasts and about people we knew, but were not there to deconstruct our fibs.

At one point, we noticed it was way past our bedtime. My son had fallen asleep on my lap at least 15 minutes earlier. Either he didn’t have the patience to listen to us or he was exhausted. I would vote for the latter.

I asked everyone else to leave before I did because I had to go down the stairs very slowly - sloth slowly; I was carrying a valuable package who wasn’t going to rise until dawn.

Everyone was gone.

Inching away from the mosquito screen, I took a glimpse of a young gorgeous girl who had just parallel parked her two-seater. Opening the back door of my hatchback, I made sure Erik was comfortable and rolled down both back windows an inch.

She was standing right next to the building I had had dinner at, looking lovely. Her taut long fashionably plump legs, her mini-skirt and heels caught my eyes. Her inebriating perfume and impeccable make-up could hardly be missed. I waved shyly. She smiled broadly and waved back. I thought to myself that was my lucky day. I said to myself that these things happened when you least expected. One day or another, everybody is bound to bump into an interesting attractive person, and today, I was striking it rich.

As I approached her, I was thinking that I had to be quick. After saying some sweet nothings, my strategy was to get her phone number and ask her out one or two days later.

“Are you going to have Sushi for dinner today?” I blurted out.

“No”, said she grinning.

Puzzled, I looked around in an attempt to outsmart her and come up with the name of the place she was going to. There was a Portuguese restaurant across the street.

Hastily, I said.” Portuguese food it is. Good choice”.

“I am not here for dinner”, she pronounced charmingly.

Not sure of what to say, I added nervously. “You can’t just stand here by your car”. Chuckling, I continued. “People are going to think you are …”

I stopped short. I had a poignant realization of why she was standing there.