The Cherry Coke Incident

Yes, my little clucking chicks, mother is here with some worms to stave your appetite until this coming Monday. As a first-day-of-blogging treat, I've decided to dig up one of my past adventures -- a story I've determined is the reason that I even started writing a blog about eating at an asian fast food restaurant in a suburban mall food court.

A little backstory: By the time this story takes place, I'd been a regular patron of the Little Tokyo in the Eden Prairie Center in Eden Prairie, Minnesota. I was only slightly aware that I was a recognizable face, not really realizing it until one day the manager (who is actually going to be a major player in many stories to come) started dishing up my regular entrees and pouring my regular soda before I even had a chance to ask.

So, on this particular day, I was hardly at the counter when the manager, we'll call him George (I still haven't asked his name) began pouring my Cherry Coke. I was getting loaded up on some teriyaki chicken, with extra teriyaki sauce of course, and thinking to myself that maybe I should be the one to take the next step in my relationship with George -- but how? I thought of how our budding camaraderie was basically initiated the day he began pouring my soda without waiting for me to order. Slowly, almost organically, the idea came to me to play a light-hearted joke, one I thought would be the start of a fond and meaningful friendship.

'Actually,' I said, then paused to smirk. A styrofoam plate of saucy noodles and chicken was placed on a tray before me. Then, slowly, I said 'I wanted the Barq's today.'

Without warning, George flipped the overfilled cup of Cherry Coke into the drain and began pouring in the Barq's. He had totally missed the joke -- had he not seen my devilish grin?

I could have let it go. I should have let it go...but of course, hindsight is always 20/20. So instead, I sheepishly stuttered 'No-no, it's...it's okay, I-I-I was only joking...ummm....'

George stood idle, his hand shaking, almost ready to pour out the Barq's and start again. He wore a blank stare, despite the fact that I could feel an almost guarded hatred that stemmed somewhere deep down inside. I finally decided to cut my losses, take the root beer (which I actually almost like more than Cherry Coke, and would drink more of if it weren't for my wife's utter disgust for it) and pay for my meal, which I could only halfheartedly enjoy by this point.

This incident led to my first of a few hiatuses (hiatii?) from the Little Tokyo, located in the Eden Prairie Center in Eden Prairie, Minnesota. I just couldn't bear to even think of looking George in the eye after such an utter failure at trying to form a lasting bond. It was the first time in a while that I experienced the whole 'one step forward, two steps backward' cliche, and it wouldn't be the last time in my whirlwind relationship with George from Little Tokyo.

There is a happy ending to this story: a long two weeks later, George would see me emerge from the masses to approach the Little Tokyo counter. Sure enough, by the time I reached the end of the serving line I found a smile, and a Cherry Coke, waiting patiently for me.