being present
What would you do when a payphone rings?
I picked it up. The voice sounded like a glass-wearing white male in his late 20s.
Every time when I talked to a stranger on the phone, my visual system was activated with a vivid imagery of the speaker's gender, race, age, and even outfit. I don't know why but it works for me.
The glass-wearing white male in his late 20s said "We are almost there. Looking for a parking."
"Ok. But who are you?" I said.
"What are you talking about? Don't leave. We'll be there soon." He said.
"Fine," I said, "But you don't even know me."
"Just don't leave."
I guess in his hearing-mediated representation of me I were either his friend, his high school sweetheart, or his blind date. Anyway, I hung up the phone and laughed hard. After three rounds of beer, I laughed easily. Superstar, Aya, and I were all in an easily pleased mood. The atmosphere in the McSorley's Old Ale House lifted our spirit into an even higher level after tasting the best ramen in New York (or the US if I were in a New-Yorker state of mind).
Quality of food and drink definitely contributes a large part of a good dining experience. However, without an authentic, culture-specific feeling from the dining environment, one restaurant, beer house, cafe, or a vendor stand must not deserve the gold medal for being the best of its kind. Minca is no doubt the winner of the gold medal in the ramen domain: the Chinese-style Japanese cuisine with specially made (e.g., hand-made) noodles and thick broth of pork, fish or chicken. (I'm sorry, vegetarians)
It's hard to carry a conversation while fully appreciating ramen. The relationship between the diner and the ramen is way more important than anything else. The heavenly time was only enhanced by watching Aya having conversation with the waitresses. It was like listening to the tango jazz that DJ Gary Walker played from time to time or like dancing a tango vals: moving, turning, & smiling from understanding without explicitly exaggerating phrases such as "Thank you very much for your help!" or "Awesome!". Was I using wrong metaphors for the witness of the Japaneses conversation? Or I was simply happy.
Talking about visualization of a speaker, I had always thought DJ Gary Walker was a black man with witty jokes, frank opinions, and super contagious warm laughter. His voice and the music he played have brightening each and every morning of the past three years. To make sure that I spelled his name correctly, I went onto the Jazz88 website and found him a white man. Oh my... Suddenly I felt I didn't know him anymore... (as if I had known the imagery of him being a black man for three years).
The good night had to be continued after the ramen. The long line waiting outside Minca prevented us from having some beer or enjoying some low-paced chilled time. So we walked away with a goal of popping into a brewery. On the way from the Lower East Side to the East Village, there were many pubs, bars and lounges for selection. Neon signs screaming "OPEN", "Budweiser", "PUB", "Guinness", or "Happy hour all day everyday" failed to attract more than our transient attention. We were determined to... or I was determined to trust Superstar's sense of direction and memory to lead us to the famous old brewery. We found it.
When walking through the crowded bar area, I saw at least 10 half-pint beer mugs on each table we passed. "Wow, people are binge drinking here." I thought.
A big guy with a type of body for a dance club bouncer (looking like Gerard Butler but 10 years older) violently seated us. First, he separated two tables and kicked a chair against the wall. "Sit down here." He said.
We did according; however, I tried to move the chair that had been kicked moments ago to get closer to the table. He stopped me immediately and insisted that the chair had to be at the wall. "Just sit down." He demanded.
"How should we order?" I followed his instruction and asked for more.
"I'll be right there with you." He left us speechless, and then did come back with a question "So?"
"What do you have?" I knew I sounded innocent, but I saw no blackboard written with today's special. Being honest of being a newbie is my rule of life.
"Beer." He replied and left again. We looked at each other in awe. But pretty soon he came back with six half-pint beer mugs: 3 with amber-colored ale and 3 with dark stout.
The stout was impressively good and smooth and delighting!
Each of us tried the two flavors, and within a very short of time the mugs were empty.
"Another round?" The waiter came back.
"Sure!" We all responded, "Only stout this time, please." He brought back 6 mugs of stout. Now I knew why there were so many mugs on each table.
No TV. No sports. No games. No flashing lights. No young hot bartenders. No waiters with fake smiles. Just sounds of people, celebrating the end of a week, birthdays, or simply this existing moment decorated by good beer. Framed photos covered the wall. Wood shreds (or powder-ish rather) scattered on the floor. Laughter filled the air.
While we were having the third round, the payphone on the wall rang. Superstar answered it. He showed his trademark smile, but I could not hear a word. People were loud laughing, chatting, and being themselves around our table. Aya was telling her opinion on some subject that attracted attention from a nearby stranger. We were all laughing. The payphone rang the second time, and I volunteered to answer it. I seriously did not care whether that glass-wearing white male in his late 20s met up his friends. He might not be a glass-wearing white male in his late 20s anyway...
The waiter later told us that the payphone was actually the house phone, but no one seemed to care whether it rang or not. Things did not matter that night.
Sometimes you find lots of things do not matter. Being happily feeling the soundings at the present moment matters.
