Like all wonderful things, Spring Break 2013 has come to a close. In twelve hours, I’ll be getting ready to leave my home for work. Just thinking about it makes me sad. For some reason, I hear the opening bars of Def Leppard’s “Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad,” probably because it’s a really sad song, but not overly depressing. I mean, I did see this return to work coming. I suppose that Spring Break 2013 ended about as well as it could have, with the unheralded return of Date Night.
First of all, I’d like to thank my Aunty Waynette for giving us a voucher for Sam Choy’s. It enabled Lynnette and I to eat like royalty. Our tummies salute you, Aunty Way.
So, perhaps because Sam Choy’s is on the verge of closing, it felt as if they were short-staffed last night. We ordered two appetizers and an entree to share and we spent roughly two hours there. But Lynnette and I weren’t in any particular rush, and since it was Date Night, I tried very hard to resist the urge to check my phone during lulls in service and conversation.
The first dish out was the crab dip. “How is it?” Lynnette asked. “It’s no Ocean’s crab dip,” I said. She smirked. The dip was served with only about six tiny pieces of bread. “Just pack them,” I said. The result was the mountain of dip carefully scooped onto the bead like the one Lynnette is about to devour in the picture above. Because Lynnette is an elegant woman, she took two bites to eat our crab dip mounds on bread. Because I am not urbane at all, I considered it a personal challenge to get each pile in my mouth in a single bite. Too easy.
Something like fifteen minutes after we decimated the crab dip, the clams made their way out to our table. I think they were cooked in a miso/ginger broth. A little too much ginger for me, but Lynnette loved them. Note: This is the part of my blog entry where Lynnette is reading along and says out loud “I bet if they were ‘Osaka’ or ‘Tokyo’ clams, you’d have liked them better!” What a psycho.
Anyway, the clams were solid, and I enjoyed them, but every time I eat clams, I think about how they aren’t as good as the one time we ate clams at Alan Wong’s Pineapple Room. Last night was no different. I can’t remember what kind of broth the Pineapple Room clams were served in, but it was the best I ever had. The last time we went to the Pineapple Room, it wasn’t on the menu. Chances are that from here on out, every time I eat clams – whether in a restaurant or in the comfort of my own home – I will do so wistfully while Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares 2 U” plays on in my head.
There was also a prolonged wait between the clams and our final dish, but it allowed us to pace ourselves. Also, since I had such a stunner – both aesthetically and intellectually – seated across from me, I didn’t mind the slow service time. It’s so easy to lose track of time when you get lost in someone’s eyes first. Note: This is the part of my blog entry where Lynnette rolls those beautiful mocha eyes of hers because she believes – incorrectly – that I am being facetious.
Normally I do that thing where I eat so fast that I feel horrible even before the bill is brought to the table, but the glacial (in terms of pace, not manner) service actually paced my eating. By the time the crab legs were brought out, we had eaten a lot of food, but also had plenty of room left for more.
If you told Lynnette that she could choose between spending a weekend with me at the most luxurious hotel on the island or an one-night all-you-can-eat supply of crab legs from that hotel’s finest restaurant, she would choose the crab legs with the logic of “Phil is the same no matter what room he’s in. But crab legs…” While it’s hard to argue with Lynnette’s logic, I would be somewhat hurt, but like the end of Spring Break, it’s not like I’d be able to say I didn’t see it coming.
Lynnette plows through crab legs with the same ferocity and facial expressions with which Darth Sidious plowed through a bunch of ill-prepared Jedi. It’s one of her true loves. After dinner, we made a quick stop at Ward Warehouse to meet up with one of the others.
Lynnette mentioned an Eden in Love sale, and since we were more or less in the neighborhood, I decided to stop by to allow her to check out the offerings. While she browsed the store, The Killers and Rooney came on over their speakers back-to-back. “This is the soundtrack of our early 20s,” I said to Lynnette. “Oh, yeah, like The OC,” she said. “Wait, how old are you guys?” the clerk at the register asked. We told her and she was excited to tell us that she was right in between Lynnette and I. “Ocean’s on Thursdays and Mai Tai’s on Fridays?” she said. Lynnette and I both laughed and nodded our heads. “Pipeline $2 drinks,” I said. “Oh my God!” the clerk said. “The younger girls never believe me when I tell them about stuff like that,” she continued. Our conversation ended with the clerk confessing that if she had her way, New Kids on the Block would get more air play in the store. Lynnette agreed immediately and emphatically. Two Ocean’s references twice in the same night!
Our night ended at the Kaka’ako Night Market. It was kind of a mash-up between Eat the Street and First Friday and Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater. Lynnette meandered through several booths selling clothing while I mostly tried to stay out of the way. I saw a handful of former students, which is always nice. I suppose, though the thing that caught my attention was the fashion on display.
Near as I can tell, a lot of the guys and girls in their 20s and early 30s were dressed in what I understand to be the hipster look. I might be completely off because I am old and also not a hipster. Suffice it to say, there were a lot of boots, cuffed pants, mismatched patterns/colors, beards, and remarkably tight pants.
I suppose I was so taken aback by it all because while I see some aspects of it at Damien (the sidecombs, the tight pants, the cuffed pants, the $40 snapbacks), I guess I never really saw it in full effect. What I see at Damien is a teenagers’ appropriation of an adult fashion trend. Teenagers play it safer. It was a trip that made me feel even older than when I was standing beside four people with Samsung Galaxy Somethings with my iPhone 4. It did, however, lead to the highlight of the night for me. A couple walked in as Lynnette and I stood in line for lemonade. The guy was wearing tight maroon pants, work boots, and a flowy, blousy color-block top. His girl wore short shorts with the high waist, impossibly high wedges, and one of those loose floral print tops that makes trying to figure out what kind of bra she’s wearing no mystery at all. As they sauntered in, two teenage boys watched them and wore these looks on their faces that seemed to say “What the fuck are you guys wearing?” It killed me. Because where I come from, the adults mutter the same thing to each other as teenagers walk by.