#6/26: automatic doors don't open

1.
-Your bangs really are too long. Why don't you cut them? You'll look better!-

The restaurant is packed full of tables and an overwhelming number of customers who are crammed into overly decorated wooden chairs. Some tables are pushed together for groups and there is no extra space, except for a small spot by the kitchen. She says that she is hungry, so we enter. Our table surface is one quarter menu and one quarter condiments.

"What did we get last time?"
"Unnn, I got this one? You probably got.."
"Pad thai.. or ga pao rice."
"Yeah probably. Well I'm going for the chicken pho!"
"This avocado green curry looks super good!"
"Eh, I didn't see that! Wow! I'd like to try some"
The waiter comes.
"What would you like?"
"Chicken pho please."
"Drink?" He has a heavy accent.
"I'm fine."
"Ok. And you?" He turns to me.
"I'll get ... pad thai."
"Ok."
"Ah, sorry.."
"Yes?"
"And a beer. Please."

The food is good, but I really should have gotten the avocado green curry. She says she doesn't need any of my pad thai. She had it last time. The woman sitting next to us with her younger sister and grandma is loud. I drink my beer. 

-GRANDMA, WAS IT GOOD?- 
-Un, it was.- 
-I'M GLAD TO HEAR THAT!-
-                                              -
-Hey, show me your forehead!-
-                                              -
-It's huge!-
-                                               -
-GRANDMA, DRINK SOME WATER, OK?-
-Would you like some more?-
-Yes, please.-
-You know what? I take it back. Maybe you shouldn't cut your bangs.-

2.
I stand in front of doors, expecting them to open, but they don't, and I feel awkward standing there. I step back, looking for a sign indicating that the Maruetsu Petit, my neighborhood supermarket, is closed, but the lights are on and the costumers inside are an obvious sign that the doors do in fact work. They got in there somehow. 

I push at the door, looking for one of those hand sensors, but there is none. Is the pressure pad on the ground broken? Have I been locked out?

A small line of shoppers forms behind me. They all have very concerned expressions on their faces. I give up and go home. I'll make do with what food I have there. 

3.
Enter Butter 08. I find this CD laying in a stack of music beside my desk. It sounds nothing like butter.

More like a tangy cheese.  

4.
The staff yell at each other constantly, assumably about customers' orders, but we can't help feeling they are talking about us. In between indistinguishable words, I hear "pad thai", "coconut curry", "green curry nan". 

The waiter pours water for us. Suddenly he begins a tirade of orders towards the adjacent kitchen. I shudder from surprise. She laughs.

5.
The distorted jazz fusion melodies enter my ears. "BUTTTTERRRRRRRR". Not that I would expect anything less from Mike D's label, but this is crazy stuff! "BUTTER FUCKER". What? Three American guys with two Japanese expats living in New York City. A one-album-band. A glorious glorious summer of 96. 

6.
We walk home and she is full, but I am not.
"I need vegetables."
"You had some"
"They were all bean sprouts."
"Should've gotten the curry."

7.
At night, while laying in bed, I occasionally get very painful leg cramps. It is always when I am on the cusp of going into or coming out of deep sleep. A spasm in my muscles cause one leg to lock up. Depending on the direction I am laying, my body violently attempts to untangle itself, pushing myself off the bed, and sprawling to the floor, whimpering in agony.

A thought occurred to me once while I was thinking about money. In an alternate world, would I accept one of these leg cramps once per day in exchange for a million dollars? It could be worth it.

..And if not once a day, what interval would be acceptable?

8.
Shinjuku station again, this time to buy mid-year gifts*. I fell into the habit of using the market space at the Southern Terrace exit as the source of all my confectionary gifts. It is a short walk from the platform and I don't even need to go through the ticket gates. I'm afraid I'll buy the same gift twice, though. Would anyone notice? Personally, I don't mind receiving the same sweets again if they taste good. 

9.
The supermarket appears as we take a left after the intersection. Peacock, one of the various supermarkets belonging to the Aeon group. Even though they all sell the exact same products, they differ greatly in price. Peacock is one of the more luxurious stores.

I sigh and we walk in together, but I realize we have forgotten a basket. I step out and take one. I hear the quiet thud of the closed doors. I look through the glass to see her looking intently at the squash.

I breathe, step forward,..
Nothing.
I wave my hand. I jump.
Nothing.
Now she is out of sight.
I will wait.

10.
-GRANDMA, ARE THEY TOO HEAVY TO HOLD?-
-No, they're fine dear.-
-Hey, forehead, get the mic while your plugging in your bass.-
-                             -
-WHY DON'T YOU DRINK SOME WATER FIRST?-

Grandma takes a big gulp of water, puts the bottle on the floor, and strikes her drum kit. Big sister starts shredding on her guitar. Forehead takes the mic and slaps her bass.

-You're gonna get it, you're gonna get it
You're gonna get it, you're gonna get it now
You're gonna get it, you're gonna get it
You're gonna get it, you're gonna get it now
You're gonna get it, you're gonna get it
You're gonna get it, you're gonna get it now
You're gonna get it, you're gonna get it
You're gonna get it, you're gonna get it now-

11.
The morning light seeps through my curtains. My blankets have been thrown towards my legs. My chest raises and falls at a steady beat as I massage my right leg. The air is hot and humid and my skin is sticky with sweat. 

"I guess I'll stay poor."

*御中元