I Was Late, As Always

A colleague wanted a dinner.  He was Chinese.  But he didn’t live in China.  How well did he know Beijing?  I told him I had a place in mind.  But I had many places, really.  Should I pick something fancy for him?  Would he prefer something plebeian?   Perhaps I could lure him out towards my home, and split the difference on the distance.  He suggested a place before I could jump on it.  I read the name and assumed it was I place I knew. A common place.  A place I’d been a dozen times.  I debated it for a while.  I could insist on something different.  I ran through the polite, but assertive dialogue in my mind.  But two turned to four and sighing to myself, I wrote him to say: “Sure.  That will be great.”

En route I was late, as always.  It was rush hour.  I was, after all heading all the way into town to see him.  And he was early at the place he had chosen.  “Sorry.  I’ll be there ASAP.  Traffic.” I wrote.  And texting with a mutual colleague about another matter, I mentioned that my dinner date and I were meeting up soon.  “Oh.  He is a serious foodie.  Did he pick the place?  He picks awesome places, every time.” Typed the colleague, unsolicited.  I adjusted my neck muscles and shifted my head.

The place was lovely.  The duck was lovely.  The accompanying dishes were lovely.  I was very happy to chat about work and properly get to know this fascinating gentleman, in much the way he’d anticipated we might proceed, talking over good food at this fine place he'd chosen. 

It was worth the trip.  Certainly.  And he was inclined to head home sensibly early.  I could do the same.  My hour-long cab ride was only forty minutes at this hour of night.  I thought about the parent teacher meetings I’d had in the morning.  I’d thought about how hard my daughter was working and how much harder they all wanted her to continue.  They’re done with school now.  I’ll speak with her once she’s up.   The Bei Gao exit is right up ahead. 

Thursday 6/14/18