Slippery Noodles in Sauce

     Life lessons are delivered in the strangest ways. Sometimes, it's financial and it eats up your savings. Sometimes, it literally hits you on the noggin. Other times, you can learn vicariously through others. How you react to these life lessons says alot about your character, or maybe it just depends on your blood sugar level. 

     This weekend, I returned to Ottawa after visiting family in the Quinte area. I have to say, I'm a little pissed I am living under four feet of snow while everyone closer to Lake Ontario has less than half that amount. Regardless, I had a lovely visit and the weather was great for travelling. But, I'd made a date with myself to get some vegan eats, sample some beer and listen to some live music back in Bytown!

Crunchy Flower

     My favourite Ottawa band, Crunchy Flower, was performing at The Rainbow Bistro and I was looking forward to a night out. The last time I tried to go clubbing in The Capital City, I waited in three different lineups in sub-zero temperatures and ended up settling for last call in Nepean listening to a CCR cover band (which was great, btw). This time, even though I was flying solo, I was determined to have a good night without having to wait in a line, so I was napped, bathed and completely contoured by 6:30 p.m. 

     In spite of my anticipation, I was worried about going out and wasn't sure I'd actually go through with my plans. Some of my anxiety stems from the usual internal dialogue about preferring to stay home in bed and not wanting to go out among people. However, every once in a while I have these weird body image issues. These strange assertions I make to myself wherein I say something like, "Don't go out, you look hideous." And, by HIDEOUS, I mean I look too old, too fat, too frumpy or too... I don't know: troll-ish. I have mentioned this phenomenon in other blogs. Quite frankly, it often comes as a complete surprise to my conscious self because "walkin' past the mirror, oooh, damn I'm fine." Just like Cardi B. But, those Funhouse reflections catch me off guard when I'm approaching the grocery store doors, reminding me that I am not the gawdamn goddess I like to think I am.

     Anyway, I scrubbed up alright and I drove to a bar I had researched on my Beer Network App - Untappd. This particular bar, which I won't name yet because I'm still butt hurt over the misunderstanding, has some delicious-sounding vegan options on the menu. It's located on the University campus, so parking was a nightmare, but I found a paid lot after driving around the block three times and getting stuck behind the city buses at every turn. It cost me $4.50 to park and the fucking place wasn't even open! The only bar I've ever heard of that isn't open on weekends. Just Monday to Friday. I couldn't even believe it. Fortunately, I managed to catch some great Pokemon while I convinced myself it was not a sign from the Saturday night gods that I should just get a drive thru combo and cut my losses. 

     Instead, I proceeded to the Market area on the last weekend of Winterlude. For those who don't know, Winterlude is the Ottawa-Gatineau winter festival that attracts hundreds of thousands of people to the area for all things snow and ice. What should have been a seven minute drive turned into twenty minutes of trying not to run over a pedestrian. I didn't think I would ever find a parking spot, but I did! Cost me another $6 and it was, coincidentally, less than a block from The Rainbow. THIS I took as a good sign. 

The door to The Rainbow

     There is a Thai restaurant in the same building as The Rainbow where I ordered a vegetarian soup with udon noodles and tofu. Delicious! The couple at the table across from me were staring straight ahead and looking very uncomfortable. Neither of them were eating and they seemed to be waiting for something to happen. I thought maybe he was nonchalantly watching me try to eat slippery udon noodles lathered in sriracha and hoisin sauces with chopsticks. I was really making a mess, slurping up all that wiggly goodness. Then, his wife started turning around to look my way and I thought, "Cripes! It's not a spectator sport. Let a girl tie her feed bag on in peace!"

     Around the fifth time she glanced my way, I started to stare back, leaving an udon dangling from my lip on purpose. I was just about to say something confrontational when the server walked by. She completely ignored the couple... and they were obviously flummoxed. He proceeded to kind of march up to the cash register, pay for the meal and return with a takeout box. That's when I realized, they weren't looking at me at all. They were looking behind me to the service counter where the server was busy on her cell phone. 

     This couple had waited in angry silence for about half an hour before asking for a takeout box and their bill. It is clearly not the service they hoped for, but this is a life lesson I learned some time ago; You've got to ask for what you want. It would be nice if everyone could read your fucking mind... wait a minute. No, it definitely wouldn't. 

     Trust me, everyone's idea of perfect table service is different. Sometimes, people want me to introduce myself, talk about our specials, ask them about their day, and, basically, make them feel special by blowing smoke up their ass. Other people don't want me to make eye contact, they don't want me to interrupt them in any way, they want me to know their order by telepathy and then they want me to fuck off until it's time to pay. There are all kinds of variations in between, as well. Just ask for what you want and, if you don't get it, then you can be a dick. Otherwise, the only person being affected by the issue is yourself, you passive-aggressive douche. 

     I finished my soup, wiped sauce from my eyebrows, paid my $20 bill and left happy. There was no lineup at The Rainbow and I paid a $10 cover. I sat at the far side of the bar and ordered a $10 beer and watched the band set up. Eventually, I made my way to the powder room, which consists of two tiny stalls. So tiny, in fact, that when I turned around to ensure I would not be sitting on someone's piss puddle (as is so common with ladies, who like to hover rather than sit) I banged my damn head off the metal advert frame. As I rubbed my goose egg, I read the words of toilet Confucius written on said metal frame, "All bodies are good bodies." Again, I took this as a sign. While I may not be modelling any swim wear anytime soon, my body is fully functional. I can run and jump, shake my ass, give comfort, and feel ecstasy with this mortal coil and that's enough. 

     I continued to enjoy the light show and the bluesy tunes for about an hour. Although I didn't completely break free on the dance floor, I jiggled a bit and tapped my toes. I was probably smiling like a goof. That's when it happened. A man came up to me and started a conversation. I have no idea what he said. The music was good and loud. But, I responded politely because I wasn't wearing a shirt that says, "Please, fuck off." Again, if we could all just read each other's minds. 

     Mental note: Get a gawdamn shirt that reads, "Please Fuck Off!"

     The life lesson applies to this guy, too. He gets to ask for what he wants, whatever that is, and to be fair, if you see a single woman out having a good time, she MIGHT be looking for someone to talk to or dance with. I think it's unfair to go out in public and not expect to have to interact with the public. But, the Saturday night gods had spoken, the spell was broken, and it was time for me to get a Beaver Tail and head home. 

     Altogether, a night on the town costs about $60 for the bare minimum. I'd say it was worth every penny and I'm looking forward to trying Cafe Nostalgica next time.