I’m sick. The good thing about being sick is that I write better when I feel like crap. So it’s good news for you! Why is this? I have determined it’s because my brain shuts off all non-critical functions just to keep me alive. This means I don’t have the energy or brain-power to analyze my work to death. That and I’m kinda delirious.
Today is also day 2 of the 30-day writing challenge. I’m already hating it. That does not bode well for the rest of the month. However, I’m going to push through it and it also helps that I have a lot to talk about because the month of December was comprised of a series of disasters which, thankfully, occurred one after the other and not at the same time. But you’re probably here to find out what happened at the Indian buffet so let’s get to it. (And no, it wasn’t food poisoning.)
Okay, so here’s the story
Just after the New Year had begun (in which I went to bed at 10pm because I totally don’t care about New Year’s Eve and it’s the most overrated holiday EVER) I met up with my good friend Rachel for lunch at an authentic Mexican restaurant downtown. Now, you might be thinking I’m telling a story about the wrong restaurant, but wait, there’s a twist! The Mexican place was closed for no good reason. It was lunch time on a Friday and the doors were locked. It was also freezing and I nearly lost my fingers to frostbite while trying to call Rachel on my mobile to let her know. I walked up the block and sought refuge in the back door entrance to one of my favourite Indian restaurants, Aroma where we both agreed to settle for butter chicken instead of guacamole.
I sipped a glass of water and deliberated over getting the buffet or my favourite dish of all time: The Kofta Dilruba (vegetables and cottage cheese balls simmered in cashew curry sauce) which I can’t seem to find at any other Indian restaurant. When Rachel arrived a few minutes later she quickly solved my debilitating crisis by suggesting we get BOTH the buffet and the Kofta Dilruba. You can see why I love this woman, no?
Of course we were both about to explode after lunch but, that’s an expected side effect of Indian buffet.
As we stuffed our faces with creamy, curried delights Rachel gave me the highlights of her holiday trip to Cancun with her sweetheart, Kyle. Oddly enough the one thing she wasn’t able to get at her upscale Mexico resort: authentic Mexican food. No, for that she had to fly back to frozen over Toronto. We are so spoiled here. Well, except for the weather.
Who was lurking in the bathroom?
As we were waiting for the bill, Rachel excused herself and went upstairs to use the bathroom. Like all people left alone at a table, I pulled out my phone to keep myself busy for a couple of minutes.
When Rachel returned there was a look of shock on her face. I would say she almost looked pale but then she’s already the palest person I know and I don’t think it’s possible for her to be whiter than she already is. As she approached our table she said, “You’re not going to believe what just happened”. As I hear this I’m thinking, you were attacked? Robbed? There was an orgy in the ladies room? What?
Rachel then proceeded to give me the details. When she arrived in the ladies room all the stall doors were open and there was no one else around so she picked a stall and sat down. Just as she reached for the toilet paper she heard a rustling sound and froze. Her heart rate speeding up and her ears now fully alert she waited… and heard more rustling again coming from the apparently empty bathroom. What the fuck?
She quickly finished up and crept out of the stall, all her senses in high gear and her hand gripped tightly around the cane she walks with as a result of knee-surgery. The bathroom was silent. Rachel heard another sound behind her and spun around to discover…
A bird. There was a European Starling lurking in the women’s washroom. It scared the crap out of Rachel and it scared the crap out of me too when I went up to see for myself. Even though I knew it was there, I nearly jumped out of my skin when it rustled its wings for the first time and I spun my head around to find it perched on the faucet at the sink.
After we assaulted the poor thing with our camera phones we went downstairs to inform the staff of the issue. They didn’t seem phased. Rachel and I needed a drink to slow our racing hearts. So we did just that, and returned to her condo where we shared a bottle of bubbly and welcomed in the New Year properly by getting a buzz at two in the afternoon.