Wednesday, November 24, 2004

There was a Thanksgiving, tucked deep in the recesses of high school, where I sat bewildered in a Chinese restaurant deep in Queens. I had certainly been to restaurants before, so don’t think me a total rube, but I’d never taken too well to Asian cuisine. This has since changed, of course. It’s just that back then I preferred all my food from one side of the Pacific–the side that includes California, to be specific.

The host, a middle-aged Asian fellow wrapped in a crisp suit and centuries of tradition, watched our table with an eye trained for service. In Chinese culture, customer satisfaction turned dissatisfaction is tantamount to beating someone over the head with a bottle of soy sauce. I resolved to not break any cardinal rules of etiquette.

Then the soup came. I don’t remember the exact flavor, but I do remember an overwhelming compulsion to get rid of it as quickly as possible. I looked to my left. Looked to my right. I looked at the host, who looked straight back at me. And then I saw it: a potted plant sat within arm’s reach, a vision of leafy convenience too good to ignore.

Another party drew the attention of the host, and in that critical moment I grabbed my soup and emptied it into the pot. I had successfully watered the plant, created the illusion of finishing my bowl, and celebrated the true meaning of Thanksgiving by being grateful for the greenery.

There’s some practical multitasking for you. Remember, it’s not enough to be thankful. You’ve got to share as well. Have a happy Thanksgiving.