Mysteries of the Chinese Buffet, Part II

I commonly go to Chinese buffets with family for social bonding, or by myself to initiate a state of calm, meditative reflection. The Chinese buffet is so much more than a common eatery, it is a mystical, magical Mecca where mystical, magical and sometimes frightening things can happen. There exists in these havens an intangible unifying force that brings people of all shapes, sizes, ages, and creeds together in masticating ecstasy. To that end it is understandable that this setting (remember, called "buffatmosphere") might reinforce and manipulate the already powerful hallucinatory effects of the wonder-drug called MSG. To put it bluntly, already crazy people are driven to even crazier, unthinkable things.

In other words, I was hit on at a Chinese buffet.

I had made a pilgrimage with my loving yet old grandparents to Great China Super Buffet for a memorable lunch-time experience. After all there are very few other establishments where small Asian people willingly offer up neverending tins of delicious stir-fried meats to sate my greatness. The meal passed pleasantly and as usual, I devoured my tithings with remarkable speed. Having found my Chi and achieved a Zen-like center, I sat silently as my grandparents slowly crawled towards the finish line.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a large shadow hovering towards our booth. Looking up revealed an exponentially large, pale-skinned woman in her 50's with thinning hair and glasses, wearing tight un-fitting clothes and sporting an odd tatoo on her right arm. A Sherman tank by definition, oiled and poised, ready to strike when given the proper launch codes.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your lunch here, but I just HAD to come over and tell you. My daughter thinks you are absolutely adorable."

Needless to say I was completely taken aback by this direct hit to my port side bow. Not by their attraction to my glorious self, but by the place and timing of their advance. I struggled to ascertain exactly what the basis of this attraction was. Obviously these two women had just witnessed me in true form, shoveling plates of food towards my face with unfettered, primal rage. This behavior would be attractive only to the natural inhabitants of a Chinese buffet, who live, feed, and breed influenced heavily by the intoxicating chemicals found therein.

All I could manage was a moderate amount of damage control through a hesitant smile. I peeked around the event horizon to get a view, but by this point the daughter in question had strategically maneuvered herself out of sight and into a position of embarrassment in the lobby. Understandable of course, for who comes to a Chinese buffet looking for love, much less a mate? Who wants to tell other couples for the rest of their life that they met their soul mate while wallowing in buffet cart #2 when no more clean plates were to be had?

After an awkward pause, she continued on. "Anyway, she's 26 and single if you're looking."

This woman was twice my size, and her physical presentation was doing anything but building up hope that her progenal offspring had somehow fallen miles from the tree. While mass is certainly a component of greatness, it is merely a contributing factor rather than a direct equation. Yielding to my silence she trodded off to the parking lot in defeat, leaving me to wonder if I had somehow just ascended to a higher plane of existence or experienced an alternate dimension of hell. My suspicions were confirmed as I caught a glimpse through the restaurant window of the daughter's backside. Same make and model of her mother, just a newer year.

At that moment I realized that I was incorrect in my initial assessment of this armored wartime machinery. At first glance the symbolic tatoo on this woman's arm appeared to be the familiar stars and bars of American-made industry, but I'd know those tank treads anywhere. What I thought to be a Sherman tank was actually Hitler's Third S.S. Panzer division. How the two of them managed to escape Europe 60 years ago and continue the fight by time-travelling to MY Chinese buffet I have no idea, but nevertheless they were here.

My grandparents got a real kick out of this story, and I was left with the only option of taking numerous futile showers to wash this grimy, unclean, tainted buffet experience off of myself. I guess the moral of the story here is the next time you feel the sudden urge to procreate at a Chinese buffet, keep your mouth shut and realize it's the massive cocktail of MSG, peanut oil, and soy sauce you just ingested clouding your better judgement.