Heart Day Hilarity

A couple of weeks ago, Mus and I stopped in at a Chinese Restaurant near his parent's house to take a look at the menu. We were looking for some place low-key and inexpensive for a meal of take-out. It was immediately clear to us that we had the wrong place. The cheapest things on the menu was a plate of plain white rice for $3.

It was a bit awkward, since it was obvious that we were there only prospective customers that night and the wait staff was really eager to help us. Being heartless as I am, I felt no remorse- it's not like we were seated at a table or anything, we were just standing by the host to look at the menu. But Mus, the old softy, felt bad, so he bought an ice cream bar and we headed off to a restaurant a few blocks away where we got a huge plate of fried rice and fried chicken for the same $3.

But we filed the more expensive restaurant away as a place to go on a special occasion. That special occasion, as you might have guessed, came around on February 14th.

Now this restaurant had special significance to us for a very strange reason. You see, last year when I took a Twi course, my teacher actually lived in the building that is now the Chinese restaurant; of course, at the point in time, the building was a house. We went to visit her a couple of times last year before her mom sold the house to this Chinese couple. So the whole situation was a bit curious anyway, since we were sitting in the same place we'd sat less than a year ago, only then it was my friend's living room.

The restaurant itself is trying hard to be classy. They have these lit fountains in the front courtyard, and a security man who opens the car door for you and calls a taxi for you. The place was well-built and decorated with beautiful Chinese lanterns, but the cheap and dusty fake flowers, the garish flashing Christmas lights, and the leftover Christmas decorations of cheap wreathes and garlands add just the tacky touch needed to negate the classy stuff.

The waiters were also hilarious. Obviously, the owners attempted to train the waiters to be as professional at least as American waiters. The waiters, however, were so inexperienced and confused that, try as they did, they resembled a comedy act more than a wait staff. The first waiter to attend to us was so nervous, he kept stuttering and misunderstanding our questions. Then, finally, when he understood that we were inquiring about the different kinds of juices, he rushed off while I was in the middle of making my order. A few minutes later he returned with so many boxes of juice stacked on his tray that he couldn't hardly see to walk; he brought us one of every kind of juice instead of just bringing us a list.

Then the second waiter came with hot, moist towels. He handed them to us with tongs, and then started pouring the juice in our cups, all the while holding his left arm pinioned behind his back, like a fancy French waiter. But there was this very awkward moment when he realized that we were done with the towels and waiting to hand them back, but he was still in the process of pouring the juice. So he set down the juice and took Mus's towel from him, but that didn't seem right to him because I was waiting for my juice, so he threw the towel on the table, picked up the juice and started pouring again, his arm still pinned to his back. But as he poured my juice, he kept glancing nervously at my towel in my hands, wondering if he should have taken that. He was so preoccupied about the towel that he started shaking and dribbled juice on the tablecloth.

But the highlight of the evening came with the entrees. Mus and I both ordered chicken dishes, andMu asked me if they came with rice. I told him they did, because in America all Chinese food comes with rice- and they wouldn't charge $7 for a few pieces of chicken.

Well, of course, I was wrong. $7 actually did buy us a tiny plate of chicken and vegetables. So we ordered a separate plate of rice- and the $3 plate of rice also bought us a tiny pretentious portion. The food however, tasted good so we forgot about the expense.

That is until I started finding seafood on my plate. The first bite was a shellfish- crab or prawns or something- which I like, so I didn't mind. Then another bite of chicken. Then, a piece of something very fishy- I think it was probably octopus- which I definitely do not like. So we called the waiter and informed him that there was seafood in my dish and I had ordered chicken. Now if I was eating cheap Chinese takeout in America, yeah, I would accept that I shouldn't ask what's in the food. But paying $10 for a cup of rice and a small bowl of chicken- well, I'm sorry, but then I expect my chicken to be made of chicken. We were very nice and polite, and the waiter went back to the kitchen, surprisingly without taking my plate with him.

A few minutes later, he returned to the table with a message from the cook, telling me that I was actually eating chicken. I again informed him that while I understand that the cook intended forit tobe chicken, a mistake was made as there was something that wasn't chicken inside my food. He again went to the kitchen and returned with the same message, “It's chicken.” All this time, neither the waiter nor the chef has looked at my food- it's just sat unobserved at the table. And I repeated a final time, “There's something fishy in my chicken.” And the waiter- who by this time was sweating profusely- returned again with the message that the chef is certain it's chicken.

Then the bill came, along with some free fruit salad (which was full of unripened fruit). I'm not sure if the fruit salad was part of the service or meant to make up for the fishy chicken incident. The waiter was so nervous that he didn't even stop to deliver it- he just dropped it on the table as he walked by and rushed away.

A close look at the bill showed that they undercharged us for the juice. Needless to say, we didn't correct the mistake, and we didn't leave a tip.