Valentine’s Day is being spent at home this year, in contrast to the last, in an effort to make our early mornings tomorrow a little more bearable. Both Olli and I have to be in an hour earlier to work.
Thanks to the excellent sushi place in the middle of town (along with a nice bottle of wine and a few cognacs) this will be no great hardship. What with all the wedding stuff going on, we’ll take any quiet evening together that we can get.
A view of our evening’s beginning:
Note the green bottle of Olive Oil I gave Oliver. More romantic than chocolate or flowers.
AS the evening is still going, I will leave you all with an account of our last Valentine’s day together.
(email dated February 14th, 2005)
Happy Whalentine’s day
No that’s not a typo.
Tonight, I was so proud of myself that I had made it home before 8pm. I actually ran out the door at 6 to catch my train home. Oliver had made plans to meet his coworkers at the sauna instead of spending it with me.
Thinking to myself, ‘if he wants to get naked with other men instead of spending a meaningless commercialized holiday with me, I’ll just show him a thing or two”, I sent him an instant message that simply read:
Just caught the train home, next destination SUSHI!.
Two minutes later he called me declaring a change of plans.
A strange choice of driving and last minute errands led to a hour delay in getting to the restauraunt, by the time we got there we were starving. Walking in we realized that the ‘all you can eat’ offer was actually an ‘all you can eat in an hour‘ offer.
Hmm, a challenge. Ladies and gentlemen start your engines.
This place will go out of business and soon. But we were glad we were there to take advantage of the owners naive belief in what the human stomach can handle in an hour.
We left the restaraunt two hours ago and I am still short of breath. By 30 minutes into the session we were panting and strategizing as to how many pieces of nigiri we could take off the conveyor belt at a time without a revolt from the people waiting further down.
We wondered if bathroom breaks would be included in the overall time or if there was a time out option for the professional eaters.
When we finally cried for mercy at 45 minutes past, there were huge stacks of little plates waiting to be cleared off our table and relief on the waitress’s face.
I am certain they took our picture and we will never be allowed back in. After years in the Bay area and countless cheap sushi nights this was the mother of them all.
It may be Valentine’s day, but I do NOT want to cuddle.
I may explode.
I need to go beach myself self now.
Have a good night!
-Megan in Munich