I had a yummy lunch with my little sewing circle today. We went to a place called Thai Foon. It’s a thai place. Clever huh? I had the “Shrimp Jap Chop”. The last few times I’ve been there I ordered the Pad Thai, which was excellent, but I don’t like sticking with the same thing too long. . . it’s a character flaw. So I’d never heard of Shrimp Jap Chop, but that made it intriguing.
The waitress asked me what I wanted and I told her, "Shrimp Slap Chop", but she didn't crack a smile and just wrote down "Shrimp Jap Chop."
We waited at our table, which was a round, but somehow too small. Everyone seemed too far away, and if one of us pulled it close enough the rest were way too far.
A little asian man came over with our food. He said, “Shi-sha-sho?”
“What?” I said, confused.
“Shi-sha-sho?” Just as quickly, just as unintelligibly. I turned it over and over in my mind for what seemed like an uncomfortably long time, but for what was in all actuality maybe a second at most.
“That’s mine,” I said. I wasn’t positive that it was, but I figured that’s just how you said it, if you were from Thailand. The rest of the table looked curiously at me. I looked up. “Shrimp Jap Chop. . . shi-sha-sho.” I gestured at the bowl of noodles with my fork. They chuckled.
It was excellent. We finished and stood to pay at the counter. The woman there was NOT thai. She asked me which meal ticket was mine. I pointed and said, “Shi-sha-sho!” I’d been practicing. She had no fucking idea what I was talking about. “Shrimp Jap Chop”, I said, disappointed.