Ramen

We ate good food tonight.

We went to ramen tonight. Little place called Menma. I only suggested it because my friend who went to Japan said it tastes like average ramen there. I don’t want to believe it. It must be better in the little restaurants I’ve watched videos about. But I’ve never been to Japan. I’ll have to trust my friend until I go.

We ate too much and wandered into a bar down the block. I was at that bar once before. It was a couple years ago, peak vaccine season. I didn’t get one. The police showed up at that bar because too many people were squeezed inside. Half the patrons disappeared upstairs. I snuck out the main door. Back then, not so long ago actually, unvaccinated people visiting bars would get fines. Tonight, there were no police around. There weren’t that many people at the bar either.

On the small stage inside, 3 musicians were playing a show. A pianist with a faded fedora and a kid with a bass stood on each side. A heavyset woman sat in the middle. She was playing the drums and singing with a voice that suited her frame. It was deep and delicious, like Frank Sinatra on a woman. She made everyone happy.

The show finished and we went to another place next door. My sister asked if we were at a gay bar. We weren’t; it was just a wine lounge. We got slightly chilled, natural wines, with a taste of ferment I’m always looking for. After ramen and drinks, I needed the bathroom. I waited a while, and when it was my turn, 2 men left as I walked in. Maybe it was a gay bar.

We walked home and my sister dropped her bag with leftover ramen. She was carrying the bowl all night. After wiping off whatever she could, she said she’s going to have to lick the ramen off her pants when she gets hungry tonight. Made me think of what my friend said. Maybe our ramen from Menma is as good as Japan’s.