You Want What?

Posted on Saturday 10 June 2006

Many walk through the front door of our restaurant and approach my podium to ask for any multitude of things–except for a table, that is.

“Do you have an ATM in here?” No. Around the corner, down the block, across the street. Everywhere, except here.

“Do you know where a [name any bank] is?” Yes. There and there and there and there.

“Can you call me a taxi?” No. It’s easy to hail one out front.

“Can you hail me taxi?” You’re joking, right? No.

“Do you know a good place for a last-minute manicure?” No, not really. (This is now on my list of things to find out.)

“Do you know which of the restaurants around here is the best–except yours?” Well, what kind of cuisine are you interested in? (I cannot tell you how often this subject comes up in person and on the phone.)

“Can I take some matches?” Help yourself.

“Can you tell me how to get to [any tourist or shopping destination]?” Yes, go here, then there, then a few more blocks past there.

“Any gas stations nearby?” How low on gas are you?

But the most intriguing request, so far, came last week was from an older woman who spoke with a thick German accent: “Good morning. My brother-in-law is very sick and one of his last wishes is to have a lunch of [something unintelligible].”

I was somewhat taken aback and totally unable to understand what she was asking for. “I’m sorry he is sick. What is it that he wants to eat?” I asked, peering over her shoulder to see if the brother-in-law was waiting outside the front door.


“Ka—? I’m so sorry. I didn’t get that last part.”

“Ach. My accent. You know, kapowing?” She gestures like she is shooting at her head.

Lord have mercy. What is this dish? Sounds like Thai, maybe?

“I’m guessing you want a Thai dish, ma’am. There are a couple of Thai and other Asian restaurants close by.” I rattled off directions. I also wrote down the name of the dish on one of our cards, spelling it out phonetically, so she could show it to the various restaurants.

“And, Ma’am, is your brother-in-law with you? Would he like to come in?” I smiled.

“Ach, no,” she laughed. “He is in Brazil! I am taking this to him.”

A carryout meal to Brazil?

“Really! All the way to Brazil? How will you keep it fresh?” I was now having an I-cannot-believe-I-am-having-this-conversation moment.

“Yes. I have thought of that! I will ask for it to be packed, just so,” she gestured with a wrapping-up motion. “Then my hotel will freeze it. I will pack it in ice. By the time I reach Brazil, it will be frozen. But fresh.”

She smiled.

I smiled.

“Well, that is wonderful!” I smiled some more. “Just great. Good luck. I’m sure you’ll find that dish very soon.”

“And thank you!” she smiled, more broadly. “You are my first stop. I told the taxi to wait. We go on now.”

God bless that brother-in-law.

6 Comments for 'You Want What?'

    June 11, 2006 | 7:57 pm

    One time my brother fed-exed an In-N-Out burger to our other brother in Florida for his birthday. It was packed in dry ice. I love a good In-N-Out burger, but not enough to eat it after it’s been on dry ice. =)

    June 12, 2006 | 9:14 am

    Aw, that was a great way to start off my week.
    Thanks RG!

    June 12, 2006 | 6:08 pm

    Maybe she was a know (**making circular motion next to ear with pointer finger**)
    what, brazil doesn’t have thai restaurants? i know sao paulo has the biggest japanese population outside of japan in the world, so couldn’t there be a few thai families that emigrated, as well?
    in any case, it makes for a nice story.

    June 12, 2006 | 6:41 pm

    Paola–I know. One does wonder what the deal was. I have no idea why it had to be from a restaurant in my city and not from one in her city, in Brazil. Crazy? Maybe. But she almost seemed to be acting upon a last-minute whim to surprise her brother-in-law.

    June 14, 2006 | 6:58 pm

    Story of my work day. I get to hear Hispanic defendants in court who pronounce English words as if they were Spanish words. The result is incomprehensible.

    A guy says he lives in the “bayman” of his building … Basement. He pays his rent to a “lanlor”


    June 14, 2006 | 8:57 pm

    RG – very funny! Thanks for the great stories once again.

Leave a comment



Information for comment users
Line and paragraph breaks are implemented automatically. Your e-mail address is never displayed. Please consider what you're posting.

Use the buttons below to customise your comment.

RSS feed for comments on this post | TrackBack URI