Two weeks ago, we held a farewell dinner in Vivian's honour at a cosy Italian restaurant serving authentically delicious Italian fare. As it goes, good things take time to come along. Unfortunately, we also had a date with the singing and dancing cast of the musical Wicked just down the road right after dinner. When our orders did not materialise half an hour before the show, the conversation around the table petered out to be replaced by nervous looks and feeble attempts to smile. After another 10 minutes of waiting, we were issuing orders to each other to quit any form of talking once our dishes arrive and to get right into the business of eating. Just to be safe, we asked for our bill when our orders finally arrived 20 minutes before showtime.
We gobbled down our posh dinner of juicy lamb steaks, fragrant pasta, sweet cod, and fresh seafood within a record of 10 minutes with the serious yet hasty concentration not unlike those of a group of soldiers desperately putting together their weaponry while under attack. Kit Mun's attempt to make civilised conversation - does not matter that it was meant to be short and crisp - met with a snap from Aileen ("eat your dinner!"). My generous gesture of distributing of some of my cod to others was not only unappreciated and even unnoticed (Christine wolfed it down in between mouthfuls of lamb steaks), but also crucified by my dear husband (I forgive you).
Five minutes to showtime, we threw down our cutlery, grabbed our coats, and ran out the door. What a sight it must have been for the other diners! Then six mad people - several of whom looking quite unfit, erhem, yours truly inclusive - ran down three blocks from the restaurant to the theatre. There, we've burned off our dinner. And, to quote Christine, given Vivian a most memorable farewell. (She is probably thanking her lucky stars that she's leaving us loonies behind....)
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