In My Write Mind

If you’re ever in the New York City area, there’s a wonderful restaurant that sits nestled in between a drug store and a cafe near the corner of 20th Street and Eighth Avenue that you should definitely visit. It serves thai food and is called Spi.ce.

Please. Go visit. You will NOT be disappointed.

Unless, of course … I were to go with you. Seriously, if you’re here, and you decide to go, and you decide to include me in your plans for Spi.ce, do yourself a favor:

Decide against it. Immediately, if not sooner.

To be clear, I urge you to channel your inner Nancy Reagan and Just.Say.No.

Because if I were to go with you, we’d be almost guaranteed to never speak again. I kid you not. My past experiences at Spi.ce have led to nothing but broken thai’s. Sigh.

I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the peanuts in the pad thai. Maybe it’s the suds from the Sapparo beer. Maybe the milk from the bubble tea determines the future. I have no clue. All I know is, every person I’ve taken to Spi.ce … is no longer in my life. Not one. It’s like there’s a photo of me and everyone I’ve gone there with like the photo taken of all the top models at the beginning of each cycle. Much like one of the contestants disappear from the photo each week, a person I’ve taken to Spi.ce disappears from my world.

Dude, I’m the cheese. I stand alone. Not.fresh.

And as I think back, most of those people were really cool, or else I wouldn’t have been breaking bread with them in the first place. All I recall as I’ve sat in the glass front eatery with the perky hostess and stealth-like water fillers are good times, great conversation and some of the best and most affordable food ever.

And that’s why I choose the place. There’s not many places in New York where you can get two appetizers, four drinks and two entrees for under $40 — unless the place has a drive-thru window and a playland on the side.

I’m telling you … the food is great there.

So, with that being said, I need to reconcile it all in my mind, review my times there like I was Lennie Briscoe on Law & Order.

(Aside: I would’ve said Ice-T, but as I tried to type it, I couldn’t keep a straight face. LOL Seriously, is there a worse actor on a prime time show than T? I cringe every time he appears on screen with SVU’s lead detective guy. I know the guy has a permanent scowl on his face *who can really blame him for that, with all of the horrific crimes he witneseses?*, but the scowl seems to wrinkle even worse when he has to talk to T. LOL It’s like he’s saying in his mind, “How … in the hell … is this guy still on the show? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m deathly afraid of him and his gangsta rep, but dammit … can he say ONE line without tilting his head to the side and pointing? Just ONE?!?!?? PLEASE?!?!?!

I also would’ve said the other black guy on the show, Jesse L. Martin, but I really can’t take him seriously as a cop anymore after seeing him prance around in the movie, Rent. For real, if I were a criminal on L&O and saw Martin coming, all I’d do is press play on a showtunes CD and hope he gets distracted trying to remember the words to “525,600 Minutes.” I mean, really … wouldn’t this work?!!?!? Wouldn’t a perp be halfway to Rahway, NJ, by the time Martin stopped mourning the death of Angel and realized that he was at his other job?!?!?!? LOL I sometimes wonder how many shots they have to re-take because ole Jesse just started belting out “Le Bohemme” while walking the streets with Dennis Farina? Can you imagine Farina’s face when he does this? Can’t you just hear him say, “Dammit, Jesse. Shut the f*ck up and let’s get through this before my hair drops like a broken souffle!!!” /Aside)

I’ve been there with acquaintances who are teachers, performers, lawyers, advertising execs, fellow writers … you name it. On some ole “food, folks and fun” tip. But somehow, soon after we finish our last drink, it turns more into “friends.freakin’.forgotten.” And I just don’t get why.

I mean, I’ve never had an argument with anyone there. Everyone has enjoyed the food and the service.

Maybe, subconsciously, I take people there who I don’t want in my life. Maybe, without saying it, the people I go there with lack flavor, and me suggesting Spi.ce as our venue is my final attempt to add a “pinch” or a “dash” to the friendship.

Maybe I’m overthinking things and, much like the menu’s curry calamari, those ties were meant to last a season. Meant to be enjoyed for only a limited time.

All of this came rushing to my mind the other night when, without even thinking, I suggested that a friend of mine from out of town meet me there. As I stood outside waiting for their cab to approach, I reminisced over all the great food I’ve had there … and all the broken thai’s that followed. It was weird, to say the least.

After we ate, I told them that we should hang out really soon, thus “reversing the curse” of me losing acquaintances faster than a contestant on a reality show loses a housemate. We laughed about it, promised to keep in touch and prove the Spi.ce theory wrong.

We’ll see how that goes. I’ll keep you posted. LOL

Until then, it’s probably best for me not to go back with anyone else. Probably prudent for me to chill until the final results are tallied. Because, if not, if there really is some sort of link between Spi.ce and my subconciously dumping friends, it’d be too much for me to bear.

So please, go. Enjoy it. Tell me how you liked the spring rolls, the warm duck salad, the coconut Thom Kha, the drunk man noodle, the green lime snapper or the phuket pineapple fried rice. In fact, call me immediately after you leave the place.

At least, that way, we’ll be guaranteed to still be speaking after the experience, and I won’t wind up with yet another full stomach and broken thai … *sigh*