August 18th, 2022Just sayin’…

Went out for lunch the other day. Not locally, a sushi train restaurant.
In the old days, well not so old, but older than now, they actually looked like little trains running around on the tracks. But I think people had too much sake and then tried to derail the train which sounds like fun but in reality ends up a rice and fish mess.
They are quite cool though. You used to sit at a stool but now you sit in a very safe booth and watch as lots of different coloured plates rail by, tempting you with everything from eel to Hello Kitty ice-creams. Having spent some formative years in Japan, apart from being in the country, this is my go-to place. Well, was.
Always someone going to spoil something. And why is it always a kid? Actually, that is not true, I blame the parents. When did all kids become free range and allowed to wander around, touching everything?
But this kid, in the booth next to us, took it to the next level. Aged maybe three, I don’t know, old enough to climb onto the booth’s couch, so maybe four. Perhaps a really smart and active two-year-old.
Anyway, there he was with his doting father, or maybe grandfather, who knows these days. My dad was 41 when I was born and when he picked me up from Girl Guides, a cheerful, helpful Guide would always say “someone’s grandfather is here”. I was mortified. But how do you stop them picking you up, without hurting their feelings, when you are only 12?
Mind you, we were once in the family Valiant, sleepy six and all that, and we were sitting at the lights. Me in the passenger seat, dad with his balding head in the driver’s seat. The car next to us had four young blokes in it, all laughing, and then they starting revving the engine. As if to say “see how you go, old man”. And so Dad did. He hit that accelerator as soon as the light turned green, the Valiant lurched forward and we left them in our wake. I was pretty impressed with that move. Old man on the outside, young buck on the inside. Much like Kyle…just joking, honey.
But back to the sushi train and keep in mind, not just normal dining-out etiquette but also we are in the middle/end of a pandemic etiquette. We watched in stunned silence as the kid leant over, I kid you not, and started to lick the plastic cover of each and every plate as it floated past. Licked it. WTAF?
I looked at Kyle and said “I used to do that at the sushi train in Frankston with my parents”, and then we both laughed uproariously. Of course, no sushi in Frankston when I was growing up – just a Chinese and the wonderful Rugantino’s Italian joint. And, of course, the chances of me licking a plate in front of my parents and living to tell the tale. Not a chance.
So why didn’t we say anything? I really don’t know. Maybe because we had ordered our meals from the menu and had not picked them from the train? Maybe we had just run out of fight after years of dodging and weaving, asking people to step back, asking people not to crowd lifts, asking people to pop on a mask? Dunno. It’s been a long pandemic. But I do know we left not long afterwards.
There is only so much you can put up with. Just sayin’…