Saturday Night WC 297

Saturday Night
WC 297

Did you ever have your heart set on a sit-down dinner and a glass of fine wine and ended up in line at an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet with a soft drink dispenser at the very end?

Well, that's where I find myself this fine Saturday evening. I’m holding a plastic tray, transported back to my high school cafeteria days, or to prison, not that I've ever been.

My date has scooped a large portion of moo shoo pork onto his mountain of white rice. He is about to plop a scoop on top of my rice.

"Oh, no thank you, I'm fine."

I am vegan, but I don't want to embarrass him. He didn't listen earlier when I mentioned I don’t eat meat. I’m realizing he's one of those people that waits to say his next thing instead of listening.

We move along. His plate is piled high with every artery-clogging food in sight. I have selected healthier vegan items.

"Is that all you're gonna have? The price is $8.99 either way, honey."

Honey?

"I'm good," I say.

We’re almost to the end of the line. Ignoring the tongs, he reaches into the bowl of fortune cookies with his bare hand and plops a cookie onto my plate.

"This will bring you good luck," he says as he pinches my 68-year-old bottom. What 70-year-old man does that on a first date?

I’ve never called for an Uber before; there's always a first.


Later, alone in the back seat of the Uber, I break open the cookie and read the fortune: You have dodged a bullet; the night is still young.

The driver is 55ish and very, very appealing. I wonder if he’s married? Does he like older women? Is he vegan? If not, that isn’t necessarily a deal-breaker.