State Street


a non geeky post, in response to feedback from my awesome readers, instigated by the accounts on this wonderful weblog

Pretty women can often keep your brain from functioning. It’s sometimes hard to believe, until you experience yet another embarassment that reminds you of the way things work in this world. Like, for instance, the incident that happened in the great Buffalo Wild Wings down on State Street. Great place, nice ambience, and dark haired, blue eyed waitresses.

Of which one of them comes up to me, and asks me what I would like to drink. “Just food”, I say. Sudden loss of ability to construct sentences, I realize. Maybe she’ll overlook that as a sign of me being, uh, you know, those Asian brown people and all. “What would you like to eat then”, she proceeds, maintaining her professional chirpiness.

“Six Wings”, I say, pointing to the menu’s photo as if to prove that either I am illiterate or she is.
“Would you like sauce with that?”, she asks.
“What sauce?”
“What sauce?”
“What sauce?”
“What sauce?”
“Yes” (thinking, at that point of time, why the hell is she asking me if I want HOT SAUCE so many times?)
“Sir, what kind of sauce would you like?”
“What do you have?”
“Sweet sauce, Hot sauce….”
HOT Sauce!”
“Ok, great”
“Thank you”.
“Will be right back with your wings!”

Turning back to continue the conversation with my friend on the table:
“She said What Sauce, retard”
“Yes, I wasn’t thinking too well”, I say. “Maybe I should leave her the whole ten bucks”
“For a four dollar meal?!”, glaring at me.
“Er, maybe not, then.”

What can I say, dear waitress at BWW… I’m just a little Indian who’s still getting accustomed to American accents, American restaurants and American sauces. And above all, still getting accustomed to those pretty blue eyes that every girl here seems to have.