The Night We Took Lizz to Yoshinoya

The Night We Took Lizz to Yoshinoya

Kids in my program rarely hang out together. Some think that their Japanese would get worse by communicating with pupils from lower levels. Thus, they try to avoid group activities. Some have already managed to get themselves a Japanese boyfriend/girlfriend. (And no one wants the third-fifth-seventh wheel, right?) Thus, they hang out with their beloved ones. Some are just loners. Thus they hang out on their own. Last night, however, we all came together to celebrate Lizz’s birthday.

I don’t think Lizz is particularly popular but somehow all gathered to share her happy-hipie 22^nd. The advanced Japanese learners realized that they had no one to talk to at their supreme level of linguistic proficiency. The couples have started to face difficulties related to the fact that in less than three weeks they’ll be biding their beloved ones a said yet definite SAYONARA. The loners have been affected by Japanese anti-suicide posters (“Are you lonely? Are you sad?”), attempting to reconnect with other human beings at least for one night. And so we all met up in front of the Kishibe station under the pretense of birthday celebrationing.

I, too, have been invited to the party. For reasons, that I’ve discovered later on that night: first, someone thought my financial contribution to Lizz’s bday cake would significantly lower other people’s contribution; second, I was deemed knowledgeable of Osaka’s dining opportunities; third, everyone thought that I was friends with Lizz (unfortunately, all I knew about Lizz is that she enjoys a Happy Meal once a day). Here I came, then.

The night, however, proved as much of a disastaaah as the time when Misty went to the Pornshop, and Minty took a tumble. In other words, I misled the entire group once again. Well, simply said, I was once again given more responsibility than I should have…

At the Osaka Station, Lizz asked me: “So what restaurant are we going to?” Hmm…I felt a bit shocked but then quickly realized that I was believed to be the only one who was supposed to know the answer. Well, I didn’t. Yet, as I did not wish to disappoint Lizz, I played along and swiftly responded: “You’ll see. It’s delicious.” So, under peer-pressure, I guided the entire group of CET mismatches, lovers, and loners toward an unknown dining location. We walked for more than forty minutes in Osaka’s skin-melting heat, till we reached a promising arcade that I thought would provide at least one locale of respite and food and drinking. Unfortunately, the arcade proved to offer nothing but respite. In fact, it abounded with places of immense excitement. Here we reached Osaka’s infamous Red Light District. Why or how I always end in such infamous hoods, I don’t know. This time, nonetheless, it was not just me who found himself surrounded by Japanese girls offering services of strange names. It was twelve other pupils of Japanese language, as well. (including Lizz whose Birthday it was).

Soon, the group realized our position and got rather uncomfortable. I felt the angry group gaze (GG) vividly. Someone in the group (clearly my arch-rival) suggested to leave the district of hostess bars and restaurants without much food. So we left for “OUTBACK STEAK HOUSE” in safer yet boringly corporate Higashi-Umeda. I did not raise any objections as my group standing was melting faster than polar caps. Well, it took us thirty minutes to abandon the allure of the red light district and reach our meat-licious destination. Upon having arrived at Outback Steakhouse we were shocked by the epic waiting line at the front door (some Japanese have even brought suitcases to change throughout the day). With empty stomachs and unfilled bday wishes, our odyssey reached its lowest point. Girls started crying and boys began to play with their iphones. It was bad.

Somehow, I felt the intense group vilification; it felt as if the epic failure that we all faced at that moment was not but my fault. I became the Pontius Pilate of Osaka. Hated and despised by everyone. So, naturally, I felt the need to do SOMETHING to prove my innocence and clear intentions. But what to do? I thought….Then, suddenly, I noticed an empty restaurant next door, a location that could provide respite and food and drinks. I made a promise that this time I shall not fail and led the group toward brighter times. Upon entering the location, all stood a bit flabbergasted. It was a good old derelict Yoshinoya. (for those not familiar with Japanese dining chains: just think Dunkin Donuts plus rice and loudly sipping salarymen.). The infamous fast-food had only four options: rice with beef meat or rice with beef meat and egg or rice with beef meat and egg and salad or – THE SUPER-MEGA SET- rice with beef meat and egg and salad and miso soup. So, since it was Lizz’s bday, we all got the super-mega set. Lizz, herself, appeared a bit unhappy (I think she expected something classier for her big day). So, I remembered we’ve been carrying her bday cake all day long and there was not a better time to eat it then the late hour at Yoshinoya. The cake’s box was wet, which was a bit strange since it had not rained for the past week. But then I looked at the box’s carrier – Dirk, who was sweating so intensely that his bodily fluids traveled all along his arm onto the cake’s box. Well, there was nothing we could do about a few tears of sweat on the cake and so we decided it to serve it to Lizz with Dirk’s sweat on it. We sang “Happy Birthday” and made Lizz blow the candles. We told her to make a wish. The Yoshinoya staff was a bit perplexed since the majority of their customers rarely come all dressed up serving cakes that are not on the menu. We couldn’t care less. Finally, we found a restaurant. Finally, we found a place to celebrate Lizz’s bday. Sure. It was not exactly a Michelin Restaurant. But chewing the rice with beef meat and egg and salad and miso soup, everyone seemed moderately happy. Everyone but Lizz who, after she had finished the cake, said she had not felt well. I haven’t seen Lizz at school today, so I hope she’s ok. I couldn’t really focus in class today, wondering what kind of wish Lizz made the night before at Yoshinoya. Maybe she just wished we would go out more often. Or maybe she had wished we had waited in the line for OUTBACK steakhouse. I have no idea. I just hope she’ll get better soon, since Dirk has been expressing a sense of unease about having served Lizz a sweaty birthday cake, and since I would like to ask her how much she enjoyed the super-mega set, how much she enjoyed the night when I led the group, the night we took Lizz to Yoshinoya.