I Ate Semen

It was only fish semen, as if that’s any better. Julie and I went to Echigo on Thursday night. We sat at the bar, where they serve omakase, chef’s choice. After ending with the unbelievable crab hand roll, we were free to order what we wanted. I went straight to the specials board. I can’t remember the first thing I ordered but the second was shirako. There was a woman, Jillana, sitting a couple of seats over, dining with her father and brother, who explained what it is. The chef, Toshi, told me it was seasonal. Jillana compared it to halibut fin and uni. She said it looked like brain. Since I’ll eat anything that casts a shadow, I went for it. I ate it too quickly, it was still hot. It was far creamier than I expected. Afterwards, coincidentally, I went for a smoke. When I returned, Jillana ordered a piece for herself. After she ate it, her father remarked, “I guess you can’t say you don’t swallow.” It was easily the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard a parent say to a child. It was then that I was told what I had eaten. Does this make me gay, or just fish gay? I’m really not sure why it’s seasonal. Do fish only fill up their scrotums once a year? So many questions, which will probably never be answered. In any case, I won’t be ordered fish cum in the near future.

Friday night wasn’t very remarkable. My happy hour started slow and never really got busy. Tim and Kimi came on and at one point Kimi asked Tim, “Will it pick up?” Luckily, at around ten-thirty it did. There were two douche bags of the night, Jr. and Douche Jr. Jr. seemed like a cool guy. He first paid cash, then opened up a tab. Douche Jr., at around nine, asked why it was so slow. Where were the ladies? Douche Jr. informed me that he was single and looking for love. Jr. bought shots for any lady who came around and there were many ladies. Of course, Douche Jr. had no game. Why is it always the ones who talk a big game, end up having none? I mentioned that Jr. started off as a cool guy, but the drunker he got the louder his shouts became. Whenever he needed a drink he would yell, “Yo!” and I no more than four feet away. No bartender likes to be shouted at, but this guy was ringing up a hefty bill, so I let it slide. At the end of the night, his tab was one ninety-eight. Tim ran his card and it was declined. That earned him douche bag of the night. What transpired next was awesome. Tim confronted him. Jr. ponied up a bunch of cash. Tim took it and put sixty on the card. Jr. tipped us twenty on the card and most likely unbeknownst to him, forty in cash. Douche Jr. ordered a round from Erin, a server, and since Jr.’s card was rejected, they couldn’t pay. Erin took back the drinks, and; although, I didn’t ask, I’m sure she would knight them douche bags of the night, too.

There were a few other characters, too. There was a bachelor party. We get the occasional bachelorette party, but rarely bachelor. They were well behaved and tipped well, but they got a bit maudlin. I was serving some customers when I heard one of the bachelor party say, “You’re getting married. Your life’s gonna change. You’re getting married.” The phrase, “you’re getting married” was repeated many times. I thought I was listening to a bad episode of Sex and the City. I commented to a customer, “I think they’re gonna make out.” Thank God, they didn’t. Then there was the one woman who insisted on calling me Tim. She’s been doing it for a couple of months and I’ve tried to correct her to no avail. There was, also, the woman who was shocked that a twenty-ounce beer cost seven dollars. All I could say was, “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.” Ironically, her name was Toto.

It turned out to be a decent night. I expected it to be slow and Saturday to be busy. I guess I’ll find out tonight. In any case, I just pray that in no time soon, do I repeat the words, “I ate semen.”