YOU CAN’T SCARE ME, I ATE FUGU AND YELLED AT A MOUNTAIN

Two more bucket list items have officially been conquered. And this time, I had to leave the country, risk death by dinner, and wake up early on purpose to do it.

I just returned from Japan, where I successfully crossed off:

• #82: Eat fugu (pufferfish)
• #17: Personally photograph Mount Fuji

🎣 Fugu Me? Fugu You!

For the uninitiated, fugu is the Japanese delicacy that might be your last meal if the chef screws up. It’s prepared from a pufferfish that contains enough poison to turn your nervous system into a Windows 95 shutdown sequence. It is 1,200 times more lethal than cyanide and has enough tetrodotoxin to kill 30 men (or 12 baby elephants). And there is no known antidote. If you get a bad batch, not even an industrial drum of Pepto will save you. In Japan, only licensed chefs are allowed to prepare it because “Oops, I left a speck of death on your plate” isn’t a great Yelp review.

Naturally, I was in.

And yes, I know the odds of dying from fugu are astronomically low these days. But when you’ve built your entire personality around crossing off strange bucket list items, you don’t pass on the opportunity to eat something that comes with a side of “potential autopsy.”

In case you are wondering, here is what happens if the chef sneezes while preparing the dish.

• Tingling lips and face
  Starts like mild Novocaine. You think, “How quirky!” No. It’s doom knocking.
• Numbness spreads
  Lips, then face, fingers, toes — your body is clocking out while your brain is like, “Wait, what?”
• Muscle paralysis begins
  Arms and legs go limp. You are now a floppy meat puppet.
• Loss of motor function
  Can’t stand. Can’t lift your arm. Can’t even flail for dramatic effect.
• Slurred or halted speech
  Your mouth forgets how to be a mouth. You try to say, “Call an ambulance!” but it comes out as “glorble blarp.”
• Diaphragm paralysis
  Breathing? That was fun while it lasted. Your lungs are officially on strike.
• Heart rate drops
  Your ticker is slowing like it just saw Monday on the calendar.
• Complete paralysis
  You can’t move. Can’t blink. You are essentially a conscious potato.
• Full awareness remains intact
  You feel everything. You hear everything. You know you’re dying. But your body’s like, “Sorry, bro. We’re closed.”
• Death by suffocation
  Not dramatic choking — just a slow, silent fade as oxygen stops making the rounds, while your still-working brain mentally screams into the void.

Fugu: because nothing says “fine dining” like watching your own slow-motion shutdown while everyone else is Instagramming their appetizers.

I went to a legit spot in Kyoto. Not some back-alley sushi shack run by a guy named Gary who once watched a YouTube video on pufferfish. I went to Watanabeya (海鮮処 わたなべや). This place had a certificate on the wall (I think. I don't know Japanese.), a stone-faced chef with terrifying knife skills, and a menu written entirely in kanji. So, I assume it said, “Eat at your own risk, Brett.”

They did have an English menu, but it only had about 12 things on it and none of it was fugu. I had to ask the waitress if they had it.She repeated my apparently butchered pronunciation about ten times just to make sure she wasn't about to serve me fermented horse liver. "Hai. Hai. Fugu. Yes."

She gave me this.

She pointed at two items. "This fugu. This fugu," and left me there to decide my fate.

Using my handy-dandy Google Translate camera, I saw that one was grilled and one was hot pot. Now, I like hot pot, but I just wanted to eat the death fish. Not a soup that had toxic fish in it.

I placed my order along with a couple of beers to get mentally prepared for this. I was psyched, but then the waitress came back to make it worse.

WAIT?!? I have to cook the Grim Reaper fish myself?

 

Was it good?

Sure. But also… not not rubbery.

Honestly, it tasted like tilapia that went to college and got a philosophy degree. Not bad, but you’re mostly eating it to say you ate it. Like escargot. Or airport sushi.

The highlight wasn’t the taste. It was the drama. Every bite came with just enough existential spice to make me rethink my life choices.

And it was worth every paranoid chew.

🗻 Mount Fuji: Now Featuring Me in the Frame

The second item on the list was much less dangerous, but way more majestic.

Mount Fuji has been on my bucket list since I first learned what a bucket list was. I’ve seen a million photos of it, but I wanted one that I took. Something that said, “I was there. I aimed my cheap tourist camera at greatness. And I didn't drop it in a koi pond.”

Now, if you’re planning to see Mount Fuji, here’s something the brochures don’t tell you: she’s a diva.

Fuji hides behind clouds like she’s contractually obligated to only appear for National Geographic photographers or people who didn’t fly across the world just for her. When I first saw it after getting off the bus, I snapped a quick shot.

Do you see it? Yeah. Me, neither. But it was there. I swear.

 

I saw it many, many times over the next few days, but the best shot was the evening of the next day.

 

There she was—towering, symmetrical, snow-capped, and absolutely perfect.

It looked like someone reached into a painting and hit "print."

I stood there for a good 20 minutes snapping photos, just in case she changed her mind and disappeared again like some geologically massive ghost.

✅ So That’s Two More Off the List

I’ve eaten a potential death fish like a daring contestant on Fear Factor: Sushi Edition.
I’ve personally photographed one of the most iconic mountains on Earth without having to Google “why is it cloudy at Mount Fuji?”

That brings me to a total of 14 completed bucket list items out of 171.

And I’m not stopping now.

Stay tuned. Because eventually I’m going to run with the bulls, bathe in a volcano, or build a robot that teaches itself to yodel. No promises on the order.

You can see the complete list here.

Z - Zombies - #AtoZChallenge

My last post for this month is Z, obviously. Z is for Zombies. 

And I was feeling lazy today. So, I didn't write anything, but I did write what is here. This is a chapter from my book (still unfinished). There are a couple of running gags in the story that I am not going to explain here, but shouldn't not distract from this short section. It is about 3,100 words, so it is significantly longer than my usual posts.

All you need to know is that in this world, due to reasons it would take too long to explain, when some people die, they don't completely die. They become zombies. But not violent, brain-eating zombies. They are basically a public nuisance. The two main characters work for the city dispatch crew. They respond when a zombie needs to be taken care of. It is John's (JB's) first day on the job. I hope you enjoy it.

---

 

There were hundreds of kids in the parking lot as parents and buses were dropping students off to start the school day. Due to the traffic, Pops had to park the truck by the street in front of the school sign. 

FTERLING COMMUNITY HIGH FCHOOL
BAFKETBALL TRYOUTS TODAY

“Damn it, Pops. Tell me why we’re here.” Pops had refused to tell John about the call. He wanted it to be a surprise. “You’ll see” was all he would say as he wiggled his eyebrows and clenched the cigarette in his teeth.

Pops jumped out of the truck and waved at the students and teachers who had stopped to look at them. The arrival of the FRT truck was rarely good news. Undeterred, Pops dropped the tailgate. “JB, gimme a hand, will ya?”

Pops pulled out a four-foot pole that had a cable noose at one end and tossed it to John. “Is this one of those dogcatcher poles?” Pops smile widened as he said “Yep. And you’re on pole duty for this one, so check it out. Hit the release knob on the end there to make it snap tight and be damn sure you have a good hold on those rubber grips so it doesn’t slip away from you. This is gonna to be a big one. Let’s go.” Pops spun on his heel and headed toward the entrance.

John followed in resignation. He had several more questions, but knew Pops well enough that he understood no more information was coming. Pops loved his surprises and badgering him for more details would only make him more excited that he knew something John didn’t.

As they stepped through the crowd to get inside Pops whistled, “Wow, JB. This place hasn’t changed at all since we ravaged these halls.”

“We only graduated three years ago. Did you expect trees to be growing in here now?”

Pops scoffed, “No, but I wonder if Mr. Hausen is still watering that pot plant I stuck in with his other herbs.”

The crowd of staring students parted for them as they made their way down the hall. “Where we headed?” John still had no idea where they were going.

“To the cafeteria,” said Pops and lowered his voice, “but keep it quiet. Ralph said the principal wants us to keep a low profile.”

“Low profile as we park in the middle of a crowd and walk through the hallways with a dog catching pole. Maybe we should have just sat low in the seats and driven the truck through here so no one could see us.”

“Hey,” Pops snapped. “I hear your sarcasm and raise you a sense of adventure. Isn’t this fun?”

“I believe we have very different ideas of what makes something fun. I didn’t care for this place for the four years I had to be here.”

Pops retorted, “I think you and I can both agree you had fun with Sara Lange in that janitors’ closet right there and you appreciated being here that day.”

“Let’s just do what we’re here to do. Okay?”

The bell signaling the first class rang just as they approached the cafeteria and the crowd reluctantly dispersed. John and Pops stepped into the kitchen and witnessed a disheveled woman mopping a large pool of thick red liquid up off the floor. The crimson stains were splattered all over the room. The bottom of her pants was soaked with it and it looked like she may have rolled in it before cleaning. It even appeared to be dripping from her scraggly hair. One of the metal countertops was turned over. Pots and pans were scattered everywhere. Another woman was in a corner scrubbing a table with a sponge. John immediately gagged.

“I think I’m going to be sick. That’s a lot of blood.”

Pops signature grin never faltered. “I don’t smell any blood. Smells just like it always smelled in high school. Bleach and janitor puke dust.”

The cook with the sponge looked up. “It’s tomato soup. Birget was cooking it when she had her heart attack. Think it was a heart attack. She’s always popping those heart pills. When she fell, she pulled it down on top of her. Spilled it everywhere.”

John, still a little green from his first impression, asked “Who’s Birget?”

Pops eyes lit up, “It’s Ms. Braun. Surprise!”

“What? Ms. Braun, the horrible lunch lady with the sideburns and the hairy mole that stuck out the top of her shirt? She’s still here?”

“For the next ten minutes or so. We’re here to pick her up.” Turning to the cook mopping the floor, Pops asked, “So, where is she?”

The cook leaned against her mop and explained, “None of us saw Birget go down ‘cuz we was bringin’ in a delivery in the back. When she woke up, she got to spreadin’ the mess she made all over the kitchen. Slippin’ and slidin’ everywhere. Makin’ all kinds of racket. She contaminated this whole room and was gearin’ for the pantry. We tried to corral her outside, but they’re not much for followin’ directions, you know. She’s a big girl. We couldn’t keep her down. In all the commotion, she fell into the walk-in, so we just closed her in. Bitch is in there now messin’ up all yesterday’s prep work.”

The other cook shouted, “Have some respect for the dead!”

She shot back, “Neither one of us respected her when she was alive. You especially. Why start now? Plus, all that banana pudding you made for today is in that cooler. What do you plan to do for dessert now?”

Pops eyes opened wide, “You were going to serve banana pudding with tomato soup. And you guys always questioned why I never ate in the cafeteria.”

The cook with the sponge scoffed, “Oh, please. You never ate here because you always spent your lunch smoking pot in the locker room.”

John immediately jumped to Pops’ defense. “That is not true. It was usually in the parking lot.”

The first cook paused as she looked at John, “Ain’t you Hank’s boy?”

John’s eyes dropped to the floor. Being recognized as the son of the late great Hank Millner always made him feel like a failure in comparison, especially since returning home from college in defeat. 

“Yeah. Hank was my dad.”

“Really? Me and him went to school together. He went out with my sister a few times. Always liked him. He was a good man. Even back in high school.” She shook her thumb toward the walk-in, “Anyway, all the ruckus in the cooler died down about half an hour ago.”

Pops turned to John with his eyes wide with excitement. “Grab your pole. This is why we’re here. Pretty awesome for your first clean up, huh? 

Pops grabbed the handle to the walk-in cooler and winked at John. “You ready, JB. Let’s do this.”

“Wait a second. What’s the plan? What exactly do you want me to do?”

Pops released the handle and cocked his head in confusion, but it only seemed to make his smile bigger. “Dude, that’s what the dog pole is for. Just get a hold of her and I’ll do the rest. You’ll get the hang of this pretty quick.”

“Put the loop over her head?”

“No, dipshit. Use it to grab her boob…YEAH, put it over her head. Just get a hold of her and hold her still so I can get in there. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Pops grabbed the handle again and flung the door open. “Go get her.”

John took a breath and stepped toward the cooler. The place was a mess. A five-gallon bucket of sliced pickles had been toppled. The pickles had spilled all over the floor and mixed with the contents from the containers of mayonnaise and mustard that had burst when they dropped. One of the shelves was knocked over splattering all the prep work from the previous day onto the wall and floor.

“I don’t see her,” John quietly said to Pops.

Pops whispered back, “Why are we whispering?”

The cook with the mop spoke up, “The cooler doesn’t have a back door. She’s in there and we need her out. We have less than three hours before we have to start feeding 400 kids. Let’s go.”

Pops banged on the cooler door with a spatula and explained, “Let’s get her attention. Sometimes they slow down a bit if they’ve had plenty to eat and I’ll bet you a carton of smokes she stuffed herself in there. They’re like babies. They put anything in their mouths and all that’s in there is food. Well, what the school calls food anyway. I could never eat it.” He banged louder, “Let’s go, Braun. JB wants to show you something.”

John heard a groan from inside the cooler and willed himself to step inside. To his right, behind one of the metal shelves, he could see the end of Birget’s foot. He moved a few items for a better look and saw her lying on her back on the floor. Her clothes were covered in the tomato soup from the kitchen and various other sauces and gravies. Both her and the cooler were such a mess, she was almost camouflaged into her surroundings.

John stepped around the shelf trying to keep his footing on the slippery floor while checking to see that he had the loop at the end of the pole fully loosened to easily get it over her head. There wasn’t much room between the shelves and Birget’s head was facing away from him. She didn’t appear to care that he was there. She just stared up at the ceiling and occasionally at John as he positioned himself at her feet.

John draped the cord over the back of her head and tried to pull it back toward him. With her head resting on the floor, the cord didn’t slip over her head to her neck. He adjusted the cord length once again and made a second attempt. As he was positioning the pole, Pops banged on the door again. “Come on, JB. What’s taking so long?”

The sudden noise startled John and made Birget jump. She raised her head to look toward Pops voice and John jerked the cord onto her neck like he was hooking a fish. He snapped the release and the cord immediately tightened. Triumphant, John yelled, “I got her.”

His loud voice in that small cooler seemed to agitate Birget and she flipped over to get to her feet. The sudden unexpected motion pulled the pole from John’s grip. Frozen, he just stood there watching Birget thrashing around and slipping as she tried to stand on the slick metal surface of the cooler floor. Pops appeared in the door and laughed, “You gonna grab her or what?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

John struggled to grab the pole as she continued slipping around, but even the rubber grips had gotten slick from the condiments and sauces they had accumulated from the floor of the cooler. Eventually, Birget was standing and suddenly slowed as she spied a large square pan of banana pudding. John seized this opportunity to grab the pole and get a steady grip as she plunged her meaty paw into the yellow goo to put into her mouth.

Pops shouted out his brand of encouragement, “You picked her up. Now, close the deal. Get her over here out of that corner.” John tightened his grip and gave a little tug on the pole. She didn’t budge from the pudding. He pulled again with the same non-result.

Pops took a step closer and with his rarely serious expression explained, “Look, she’s already dead. She can’t be hurt any more than being dead. Now stop being so polite and get her out here. You got this, JB.”

John nodded in agreement. He wiped his hands on his pants to remove some of the mess and got a good grip on the pole. He leaned forward and jerked back with a strong pull to get her moving. The sudden motion combined with the slick floor pulled his feet out from under him and he crashed to the floor pulling her down on top of him.

John struggled to get free, but the confined space between the shelves and the weight of Birget’s massive frame had him trapped. Plus, her cleavage was pressed against his face and he could feel what he imagined was that half dollar-sized furry mole tickling his upper lip. He wanted to scream for Pops to help, but was terrified some of the pudding oozing out of her mouth might land in his.

Birget was gurgling through the pudding and pawing at John’s face when he felt Pops grab him around the shoulders. Pops put his foot against Birget’s shoulder and pulled John free. Before John could get up, Pops stepped over Birget and held her to the floor with the pole as she thrashed around still trying to stand.

“Okay, what have we learned?”

John, still winded and sputtering through the pudding dripping off his face answered, “I learned that you suck as a trainer.”

“Well, this is my first slip n’ slide situation, but we learn as we go, don’t we. Let’s get her outside and put her down.”

“Why not just do it right here? You already have her under control.”

“Think, JB. We’re in a food storage area. There’s usually a lot of blood. We gotta get her outside or the Board of Health’ll bitch at us.”

John stepped forward pulling a Salisbury steak from his underwear. “What do you suggest?”

“She’s a big girl. I don’t reckon we should let her back up. Keep her pinned down with the pole. I’ll try to coax her forward.”

Pops held what was left of the pan of pudding in front of Birget’s face. Once it got her attention, she lurched for it. John released the pressure enough to allow her to move, but not enough to let her get her legs under her. She moved slowly, but they were getting closer to the exit.

After a few minutes, they reached the door of the cooler. Pops fired up a cigarette and offered to switch places with John. “Just steer her toward that back door. We can finish her when we get to the grass.”

A loud voice bellowed, “You’ll do no such thing, Leslie. This is a school with kids running around everywhere. I will not risk one of them seeing you killing Ms. Braun.”

John and Pops recognized the voice of their old principal immediately. John had never liked the man, but he was much better at hiding it than Pops was. Of course, Pops wasn’t much for hiding his emotions anyway.

Pops answered with no attempt to conceal his loathing, “Hey, Billy.” Pops gave the ‘Billy’ extra emphasis. “Technically, she’s already dead. We can’t kill her.”

The man straightened his back and held his head higher as he scolded, “Leslie Poplawski! I am still the principal here. You will address me as Mr. Werner.”

Pops motioned for John to hold the pole again as he stepped up to meet the principal chest to chest. “Well, Billy. As I told you every week of my freshman year, ‘As long as you insist on calling me Leslie, I will call you Billy.’ Remember, Billy. And…I don’t go to school here anymore, Billy.” Pops paused at the end of each sentence before giving the “Billy” extra punch to drive it home.

“Just get her taken care of inside. You can’t do it outside.”

“Whatever you say.” Pops took a quick puff of his cigarette and added another “Billy.”

“And is that a cigarette? Put that out immediately!”

John saw the twinkle in Pops eyes as he answered, “Why? Will you give me a detention?” Pops was loving this exchange and John certainly enjoyed watching it.

“You can’t be in here if you’re smoking!”

Pops motioned toward the pole being used to hold Birget down. “Sure thing. Come hold this and we’ll be on our way, Billy.”

Exasperated, Mr. Werner stormed out of the kitchen. “Just get her out without anyone seeing you.”

Pops was grinning ear to ear when he turned back to John. “Damn, that was fun. I’ve missed that.” He clapped and rubbed his hands together as he glanced around the room. “Okay. Let’s lead her over to the drain under the sink. I guess we could do it there.” Turning back to the cooks, Pops asked, “Could one of you lovely ladies grab me a knife? I think I left my tools in the truck.”

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is Z for Zombies.

V - Vampire - #AtoZChallenge

The doorbell rang and Brad dove under the weighted blanket on the couch.

"Okay," he yelled.

The front door opened and sunlight flooded the room as his wife bounced in. Carla closed the door behind her shrouding the room in darkness again.

Brad had been a vampire for just under six months, but they had their routine down. He basically kept the same sleeping schedule as his wife and, due to the pandemic, he already had an online job. They just kept all the curtains and blinds shut tight and Carla had to do all their daytime running.

Brad came out from under his blanket. She kissed him and smiled. 

Brad stepped into the kitchen and sat at the kitchen table, "What'd you bring me?"

"I got over a liter of beef blood from the butcher today…and I got you surprise."

Brad's eyes got big. "Really, let's see it."

Carla pulled out a small package wrapped in aluminum foil and set it in front of Brad.

Brad looked up at her, "Is this from Frankie's?"

Carla nodded with excitement.

He opened it quickly to find a chili cheese dog covered in onions. He leaned over the food and inhaled deeply. "You know, it's kind of mean when you do this to me. I love the smell, but I can't eat it."

Carla laughed, "It's not mean. I'm going to eat it and I brought it home so you could smell it first."

Brad pushed it to her side of the table, "That's almost worse."

"Hey, don't give me a hard time. I already gave up garlic for you. I've sacrificed enough."

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is V for Vampire.

L - Legends - #AtoZChallenge - "Just the Tip"

It had been a journey of many leagues. Magni had been traveling on foot for over a week. Almost halfway to his destination, he knew the end was in sight. He had caught a ride a few times on farmers' carts, but most people were not very trusting of people they did not know. That trust had only decreased since he left the land of his own realm, but he had not met any violence.

Magni had enough coin to buy food when he could find it, but little extra for accommodation. He had slept in stables, under trees, and under a bridge once during a storm. A few days ago, a washerwoman had taken pity on him and allowed him into her family's home for the night, but he knew he could not expect this to be common.

Tonight, trudging along the road as the sun was going down, Magni took notice of the increase in foot and horse traffic. This always meant he was coming close to a town or village. His spirits rose in hopes of being able to find a hot meal before finding a place to lay his head. He inquired of a passerby who informed him there was a tavern further up the road.

Magni looked forward to a hot soup or maybe some roasted boar. He decided he would even splurge on a flagon of ale or mulled wine. It was a nice night. After a full belly, any tree would do for shelter. He picked up the pace to get his hot meal.

Within an hour he came across the tavern. The paint was peeling on the sign above the door, but it could still be read. The Broken Traveler had a depiction of a man sleeping under several sets of watchful eyes. Magni was not sure if that logo was meant to be comforting to strangers, but it implied they were welcomed. He made his way inside and was surprised at the number of people spread about the room. This was a popular place for a tavern on the edge of town.

There were about a dozen tables in the middle that could have seated six people comfortably, but comfort didn't seem to be a concern here. There were ten to fifteen people crowded around each of the tables. More if you counted the girls in men's laps. The beer was flowing, conversation was lively, and the songs were cheerful. The place seemed friendly enough. Magni found an empty seat at one of the smaller tables near a wall as a cheer went up from one of the big tables.

Across the table from him sat a man who seemed to be having a quiet conversation with his drink. He only raised his head enough to take another sip and went right back to muttering into his cup. Magni offered a greeting, but the man gave little more than a nod as he continued to concentrate on his beverage.

Magni managed to flag down a serving girl and learned the cook had made his specialty tonight, a hearty stew that he only makes twice a year. She told him everyone was here for the stew. Magni asked for the stew and an ale. He leaned against the wall and stretched his arms above his head. It felt good to sit down. He wanted to stretch out his legs, but there were too many people milling about. It would have been rude to take up too much space.

Magni heard a loud cheer go up across the room. Several people moved to a small table on the other side of the tavern and patted the back of one of the men seated there. The serving woman from earlier pushed through the crowd and set a large beer before the man. The crowd cheered again as the man held up his new drink. Magni didn't know what everyone was celebrating, but was happy to get to be in the middle of it. This was a very lively crowd.

Magni's stew and ale arrived and he quickly realized how hungry he was. He downed the ale quickly and asked the server for another before she got away.

He tasted the stew and was immediately pleased with his decision. It was delicious. It had onions, garlic, and hard-boiled quails eggs with chucks of bitter gourd. The broth was spiced perfectly. He lifted the stew to take a long sip right from the bowl. He loved it.

A loud cheer erupted from the table next to him and so many people came crowding around, the bowl was almost knocked from his grasp. He saw a man seated being slapped on the back and people rubbing his head and he smiled from ear to ear. The serving girl showed up with Magni's ale and quickly apologized to Magni as she handed the beer to the happy man. She quickly ran off and was back a moment later with another for Magni.

Magni gulped down some of his ale and asked the man sharing his table what everyone was so happy about. The man didn't look up, but said "Lucky. Lucky man" to his cup. Magni shrugged his shoulders and popped an egg from the stew into his mouth.

He kept eating and enjoying the revelry around him. He soon ordered a third drink and was feeling very good.

The bowl was almost empty, so Magni raised it to his lips and used his spoon to shovel what was left into his mouth. He had over-filled his mouth and was having trouble chewing without dropping food back out. He was slowly getting it down when he felt something hard against the top of his mouth. Still chewing and moving things around, the hard part found its way to his teeth. It was too hard to chew. He managed to swallow everything but the hard piece and spit it out.

It was the top portion of one of the bitter gourds. It even had part of the stem still on it and was about the size of a large coin. He was looking at it as he washed out his mouth with another drink of ale.

Suddenly, the quiet man at the table with him burst out. "Lucky. Stew lucky. Lucky man!"

The crowds turned and looked at him with excitement in their eyes. He flashed a bewildered smile. People started rushing toward him and cheering. He tossed the chunk of gourd on the floor and cheerfully asked "What?"

The crowd stopped and looked at the chunk on the floor. A few people gasped and pointed. The man at his table, still looking into his glass started chattering, "no no no no no no no."

The serving woman showed up with a huge smile and a beer for Magni that he hadn't ordered and looked at the people staring at him. "What's going on?"

The closest man, red in face, shouted, "He threw down the tip. Just threw it on the dirty floor." The crowd nodded their agreement as they moved closer. Magni could sense the change in the crowd as they closed in. Several were throwing insults and comments at him.

"Do you think you're better than us?"
"Who turns down good luck?"
"Who are you to throw us to the dirt?"
"This town doesn't need your kind."

The serving woman leaned in close and yelled over the noise of the crowd. "You need to leave now."

"I haven't paid yet."

She answered quickly, "Just go if you know what's good for you."

Magni got up and slowly forced his way through the angry crowd. They hurled insults at him and a few spit in his face. He feared for his safety and had no idea why. As he approached the exit, he was pushed from behind and fell out the door. 

Half the tavern followed him out and continued shouting at him. He hurried to get away from these people, but several chased him down and blocked his path.

"You're a bad omen. You're not going into our town."

Magni tried to object. "But I'm headed south. I have to go that way."

One of the men pulled out a dagger. "Find another way."

Magni turned back up the path he had just traveled from and started back. Half a dozen men followed to be sure he was leaving town before they returned to the tavern.

He knew he would probably lose a day cutting through the woods to avoid the town when he turned south again, but he didn't understand why.

Magni smiled as he walked, "Well, at least I ate for free."

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is L for Legend.

D - Dystopian - #AtoZChallenge

Allen and Michael had finally finished securing the glass entryway on the front of the store when Lora showed up with lunch. 

"Baked beans or ravioli?" she held up a can of each.

Michael unsheathed the knife on his belt and worked to open the beans. "These are going to get old pretty fast. We've got to get more food." 

Allen shook his head at his son. "I know these won't last forever, but we have enough for a few weeks. Things need to settle down a little out there before we go out again."

With cold ravioli sauce still on her lips, Lora spoke up, "Dad, I agree with Mikey. There's a grocery store less than a block from here. Let's go stock up."

Allen knew the store was a magnet for everyone in town in the same situation. There were just too many desperate people willing to do whatever they had to do to feed themselves and their families. "No. It's too dangerous. People are still panicking and being irrational. It's safe in here."

Lora retreated back to the comfort of her can of cold pasta, but Michael had always been willing to stand up to his father. "Dad, every minute that goes by, the less food and things will be there. It may be empty already. We have to move now."

Allen was unwilling to risk the safety of his children. When they had to flee their home due to the unruly mobs that had grown more and more unpredictable in the last few days, Allen intentionally chose this hardware store as their target. It didn't have much food, but there were lots of supplies that may come in handy later and it was a very secure building. The small gun counter in the back meant they had the means to protect themselves. Food was definitely going to be important, but that seemed to be the whole town's focus at the moment. The nearer anyone got to potential food sources, the more dangerous it was as people fought to be the person to take their discoveries for themselves.

Allen was actually surprised at how well his children were handling things. They were scared and had their panicked moments, but the atrocities they saw on their grisly adventure to get to this store still bounced around in Allen's head. No one had mentioned anything they witnessed out there in the chaos.

Allen scooped out the last of his beans and declared that he was going to take a nap. He hadn't really slept since he saw the mushroom cloud in the distance and could not go on like this forever. No power, no radio or TV, and no phone service meant no news of what was going on. He knew he had to be alert, but it was time to try to sleep so they could come up with a plan for tomorrow.

As soon as he stepped to the back of the store, Michael whispered to Lora, "Let's give him 30 minutes and we'll sneak out the service entrance. We'll be loaded up and back before he knows we're gone."

---

 

All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is D for Dystopian.

Jumbo Prawns, Buffalo & Beer

Last month, Red and I discovered that we would not be able to renew the lease in our house. Our landlords told us they loved us and would like us to stay, but the rent would be going up 25% because of the pool being built.

Now, we would have never taken advantage of that pool, but other tenants might and would be willing to pay for it. So, we opted to move out and find another place. The next day, we found a beautiful home in a very quiet neighborhood. We have been here a month now and absolutely love it.

Large open floor plan

Huge skylight in the dining area

 

Creepy painting over television

We love this house.

We are the same distance from the market as before, but now we are on the other side. We live on a tiny side street, so there is ZERO traffic. This means there is no noise from cars. Just the occasional motorbike. It is so quiet here.

An extra perk we did not expect is our new landlords who live right next door to us. Mom and Dad. We have no idea what their names are, but that is how they asked to be addressed. Neither speaks a word of English, but they just may be the most accommodating people on the planet.

Many times, in the evening, one of them has brought over a silver tray filled with food they made. We never recognize the contents and they can't speak English, so we never know what we are eating. But we do know, it is amazing every time.

Last week, we were invited to their house for a party. We did not know what to expect with this, but we knew there would be food. That's usually all it takes to get me somewhere.

We walked in to find about 40 people (all Vietnamese, we were the only foreigners) already seated at tables piled with food. There were a few more dishes to be brought out and the feasting would begin. We were shown to a table and sat down. None of the people at the table spoke any English, but (despite being guests themselves) immediately set glasses in front of us and filled them with beer.

Noodle dishes, vegetables, fish cake, big plate of squid.
I love the food here.

Soon the invisible cue to start happened and everyone dug in. Except for the old woman sitting next to Red. This woman served everything on the table directly to Red's plate. She pointed out the different sauces to use with which food and then watched as Red sampled each bite. Sometimes Red would try to put something to her lips and the woman would stop her, sprinkle some multi-colored powder on the food and then gesture to eat it. It was fun to watch.

As the food on the plates began to be sucked down my gullet disappear, more food was brought out.

This was the good stuff. Fried prawns, baby water buffalo, duck.
Pork, whole crab, more squid.
We have the meats.

It was great. I stuffed myself and then drank way too much because every local wanted to come over and share a toast with the Americans. And there were a lot of toasts.

I had a glass of beer with every individual here.

As the crowd started to disperse, we got to talk with the landlord's daughter. She speaks decent English. She explained what this party was for.

When we first moved to Vietnam, we learned that there is little significance put on birthdays. In fact, most of the people of the older generations don't even know when their birthdays are or what their actual age is. However, the anniversary of someone's death is commemmorated. This party was to honor the deaths of our landlord's grandparents. This party happens every year.

She informed us that her parents host three "death day" parties annually. This one was the smallest of the three. The big one, to honor our landlord's parents, usually has over 200 people in attendance. Since they died more recently, more people knew them. Thus, the higher numbers.

I better get to work building my alcohol tolerance.

My Mind Is Playing Twix On Me

Sometimes, when I sit down to write a blog post, it is not because I have a story that needs to be told. It is because I need to write something to continue my habit of writing every day. This often means that I don't really have anything to say. However, I still need to write something.

So, I use a writing prompt. Today, I am using this one.

This could be interesting because you just might find anything on Twitter. I'm going to pop over to Twitter, refresh my feed and write about whatever post is at the top. Be right back.

---

---

OK. Thanks for waiting. I got caught up in a thread about under-employed transgendered pugs. I had to follow that conversation. Anyway, here is what was at the top of my Twitter feed.

I like the kind of trail mix that comes in a yellow bag and is called peanut M&M's.

— Felicia (@LostFelicia) March 19, 2019

I was able to relate to this tweet immediately due to my current life situation. Living in Asia primarily means not having access to any good candy. The Vietnamese don't eat much chocolate.

To be honest, I am not really much of a sweets person. Growing up, I would happily wave aside the cake or ice cream dessert if it meant I could have more of the main course. A steak or baked potato is better than pie any day.

If I'm going to eat cake, this is my preference.

I am not saying I don't like sweets. I do. I'm just not as drawn to them as other foods. Although, I would grab the occasional candy bar at the grocery store. In the States, my default chocolate choice was usually either a Snickers or a Payday with the occasional Three Musketeers sneaking in now and then. I typically ate one or two candy bars each month. Not counting the candy-centric months surrounding Halloween, Easter or Christmas. Those months don't count. It's everywhere. A person just doesn't have much of a choice.

However, living in Vietnam, there is no choice when it comes to chocolate. If you come across some, you can buy it or don't buy. There is nothing to chose from. I ran down to the local market to take a picture of their sweets selection.

Most of the items on this table are fruit-based. They are sweetened by the natural sugar found in the fruit. But unlike even fruit candies in the States, there is no extra sugar added. So, to someone raised in America, the lack of sweetness is blaring.

The above picture is the closest thing to chocolate they have. It is a small cup with little pee-wee cookies and a goober's worth of white something in the bottom. It comes with a Lilliputian spoon to scoop it out. The 'cookies' have ZERO flavor. Think animal crackers but instead of being in the shape of animals, they are the shape of their droppings.

Little rabbit pellet cookies.

The white stuff is a gooey mess that definitely does not resemble chocolate. This little snack is basically a tiny shot of chunky jizz.

If I want to put in the time and effort to venture into the tourist part of town and spend the time looking for it, I may discover exactly three types of Western candy. I have seen Snickers and both plain and peanut M&Ms.

Though in this tropical heat, chocolate does not typically do very well and the mutilated gooey inside of the wrapper is pretty damning evidence of why chocolate hasn't really caught on here.

Fill-in-the-Blank

Every week, a blog called Sunday Stealing posts a list of questions they found (stole from) somewhere on the internet. This week's questions were found somewhere on Facebook. It is called FILL IN THE BLANK.

The sentences were provided, but with blanks. My additions will be in red.

---

It's always nice when a new restaurant opens near my house.

Oh, that pizza. Yeah, we've met.

It's a sure sign of hunger when I'm awake.

Are we having vegetables again??!

My heart is immune to bacon grease and donut-related cholesterol.

Do you believe in diets? I agree only under a drug-induced coma!

I'm a gonna have another piece of pie.

I was full, but I didn't know you had ice cream. I'll find space.

 Eat cheese when the moon is full.

When we stack the plate properly, we don't have to make as many trips back to the buffet table.
 
Paula Deen is the best!

Underneath it all is an OREO cookie crust if it's been done right.

Oh! And thanks for the extra butter and sour cream.

And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to getting to bed early, tomorrow my plans include traveling to Laos and Sunday, I want to be able to sleep and not work!

---

I absolutely did not have the "food theme" planned when I started this, but look what happened. I think this offers some pretty deep insight into my priorities.

P - Pickles and Popcorn

I have written about China much more during this challenge than I had intended to, but it's always on my mind so, it is what it is.

The first few months of us being here resulted in me losing 40 pounds. FORTY POUNDS! I felt pretty good not carrying around that extra weight. That's like six or seven newborn babies and I don't even like to hold even one of those.

The reason for this radical weight loss was because of the sudden change of diet we experienced when moving here. Now, I love the food here. I really do. Although, it in no way resembles what we have been told in the States is Chinese food.

Now, however much I may like the food here, sometimes a person wants food from their home country. And for the most part, we can track down the things we crave. But sometimes it's a real challenge…if not totally impossible.

It took a while for us to find a decent pizza and even longer to track down cheese (most Chinese are lactose intolerant). Bread is basically nonexistent here and their interpretations of some of our foods are enough to make you cry.

Pickles is one of the items we have never really seen. It's just not a Chinese thing and in the few few few Western restaurants that serve a sandwich that may have pickles on it, the pickles are very obviously made locally and they only loosely fit that definition. Especially since Chinese cucumbers look more like a zucchini than the vegetable we are familiar with.

Next is the popcorn. We can find popcorn, but they prepare it very differently here. ALL popcorn here is served sweet. It's covered in several varieties of flavored sugar. It's not bad, but sometimes you want salted buttery popcorn and that does not exist here.

We finally tracked down plain popcorn and started making it for ourselves.

Maybe Society Should Have a Warning Label

Every now and then, something happens in America and I get to hold my smug head high and say "Not me, I don't live there." I may be from the States, but I've been safely on the other side of the world in China for the last 18 months. Therefore, I will accept no responsibility for the events that have prompted some of the recent headlines.

Tide Pod Challenge 

First, let's not even get into how stupid someone has to be to think that eating soap would be a good idea. For generations, parents washed kids' mouths out with soap as a punishment. Now, the kids are doing it willingly. There are plenty of jokes already written about this and a ton of memes. You've already seen everything floating around social media and can look them up for yourself if you wish.

Stop discouraging people from eating Tide Pods. It won't work. The whole reason the world's in the mess it's in goes back to the very first people being told NOT to eat something.

— Minor Character (@brettminor) January 23, 2018

People (especially young people whose brains haven't fully developed yet) doing stupid things is not really surprising. Still stupid. Feel free to shame them all you like (I know I do). But not surprising. A huge percentage of the world's population are idiots and always will be. What surprises me is the reactions that people have to the stupid trends.

Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, Pinterest, Google and other sites started getting pressure to remove all videos featuring idiots eating Tide Pods. Some sites even started giving 'strikes' to people who uploaded content showing people eating Tide Pods. Some people have even suggested holding these companies liable for even having the videos. Click here for an article explaining it all.

Tide even hastily threw together a video to stop people from ingesting their non-food product.

What should Tide PODs be used for? DOING LAUNDRY. Nothing else.

Eating a Tide POD is a BAD IDEA, and we asked our friend @robgronkowski to help explain. pic.twitter.com/0JnFdhnsWZ

— Tide (@tide) January 12, 2018

I find it pathetic that pressure was put on them to have to say anything at all to the idiots who are well aware of what they are doing, but I respect the attitude that Tide took with their public service announcement.

They have been active in getting information out there about not eating laundry detergent and have helped to get internet videos removed, but they have stated that they will not change the appearance of their product. To read the article, click here. To summarize their stance: Stupid people are stupid people and we cannot change that. You're lucky we are even acknowledging these idiots. There's already a warning label on the box. That should be enough.

And I couldn't agree more.

It bothers me that pressure is being put on anyone to do something about this. No one is to blame for any idiot older than a toddler purposefully chewing on a Tide Pod. Not a website, not the manufacturer, not another person who did it, no one other than the person who made this choice. That person is a moron and YouTube cannot be blamed for that.

YouYube also has videos showing how to grow a garden, fix your car, ace an interview, etc. If you just have to do something you saw on the internet, have an honor student help you choose a better video.

---

Next topic, Crock-Pot Mania

SPOILER ALERT: If you are a watcher of the hit TV show This is Us and are not familiar with the big plot-twist that happened earlier this week, do not continue. You have been warned.

Now, I do not watch This is Us. I am not really even sure what it is about, but it is in the news this week because they killed off one of the main characters. Jack Pearson, the "world's greatest dad" dies in a house fire that was started by a crock pot.

Now, other than entertainment news, this doesn't seem like much of a news story. However, it has grown into something more. This sometimes happens when people are stupid. If you haven't noticed, this is the theme I am running with.

People all over the country are looking at their crock pots with suspicion and wondering if they are safe to have in their homes. It has gotten so bad that both the writers of the show and crock pot companies have had to issue statements explaining the safety of these devices.

Apparently, many of the fans of this show don't realize that this crockpot was a fictional item that was 20 years old and had a faulty switch that "had to be fiddled with a little" to get it to work. Emphasis on the word fictional. This was a literary device used to produce the outcome the writers were going for. They could have used an electric knife, a dishwasher, just faulty wiring, or had him stumble down the stairs and break his neck. That's it. But…as with the Tide Pod Challenge, people are stupid. Now, they're scared of their slow cookers. I don't even know what to say.

Maybe we could learn a lesson from Mexico where even their drug lords are more trustworthy.

Good. Nothing to worry about. If there's anything I know about international drug lords, it's that they're impeccably honest. pic.twitter.com/ZyvbgHN3Xa

— Minor Character (@brettminor) January 26, 2018

Six Weeks and Counting

Red and I have been in China for nine months now and we have one of those "first-time since arriving" milestones coming up. We are going back home to visit.

Now, we have not even been here a year yet, but since our jobs are in the education field we have chosen to take advantage of the summer school vacation to come back to the States to clean out our storage unit and tie up a few loose ends we weren't sure what to do about before we left.

We have a list of tasks we need to do, but there are several things I have been fantasizing about ever since we booked the plane tickets.

No, China, no!
Bad China!
Learn what a hamburger is.

The meals we each want. As much as we love the food of Beijing (and we do love it), the food here leaves much to be desired when they attempt to create a food from other places (for example, any place outside of China). It took us almost four months to find a decent pizza here, over six months to find a hamburger I could choke down, and we still haven't found anything that remotely resembles Mexican food. Eggs are always radically overcooked and I think they boil their bacon. I've had Mountain Dew exactly twice in nine months and I had to pay a fortune to have it shipped to me from Thailand. And lastly, I miss American-style Chinese food. I plan to visit the #6 China Buffet in my hometown. That may sound crazy, but you can't get any of that stuff here in China.

Walking down the street knowing what's happening. Right now, we can't read the street signs, we don't understand the conversations around us, we can't appropriately respond to store clerks or waiters questions, and we're basically guessing about everything all the time. We have gotten pretty good at shutting the world out to prevent mental exhaustion. Although, we do have some concern that when we get back into an English-speaking country, the sudden influx of understandable dialogue and readable street signs may be information overload.

Having people laugh at my jokes. As a person who communicates almost exclusively in sarcasm, back-handed insults and witty banter, it is sheer torture to be surrounded by people who don't understand my sense of humor. It's not just a language thing. The Chinese find totally different things to be funny. Just yesterday, I was explaining to a Chinese girl that I prefer to watch movies at home and don't really enjoy the movie theater experience because they won't pause the movie for me to run to the fridge and I always get thrown out when I take my pants off. She paused for a moment, looked at me scornfully and said, "No. You can't take your pants off" and then proceeded to tell me how nice the Beijing theaters were. A few months ago, I asked my boss (I teach English) how many kids I could choke each week before I would get in trouble. She just said, "We don't do that here" and continued explaining my pay schedule. I NEED people to laugh at me.

Let's go back to food for a moment. I want a steak. A big, fat, juicy steak. I've been out for steak a couple of times here and (once again) I don't know what they do to meat here, but I was depressed for a week afterward. I have to get a good steak while I'm in the States.

Step outside without people staring at us. We live in a very international city, but in a strictly Chinese neighborhood. There are exactly ZERO non-Chinese people living in our neighborhood. It is not uncommon for children to point at us or for us to hear the words 老外 lǎowài (foreigner) or 美国人 měiguórén (American) from people who don't realize that those are two of the seven words we actually know. We are such a novelty, people even approach us to have their picture taken with us. I know I'm ready to just blend into a crowd and not be noticed.

"That man is so tall. How does he not fall over?"

Have a conversation with someone that is not my wife. I love my wife. Very much. She is my favorite person in the world. However, sometimes…just sometimes, I want to talk to someone who is not her. I talk to a lot of people, but due to language and cultural issues the conversation is generally quite shallow. I'm looking forward to sitting in a group conversation involving complete understanding from all participants.

We really need to learn Chinese.

Delightfully Tacky

I have developed a bit of a bad habit lately. When I have a series of crappy days (and there have been several in the past few weeks), I start looking for a way to get out of my funk. This in itself is actually a good intention. It is not healthy to wallow in self-pity, anger, depression, angst, horniness, pizza boxes and Reese's wrappers. A person should seek out a solution and lately mine has been food. Sort of.

This is how I look at cheese now since I rarely see it in China

Most people are familiar with the term "comfort food" and know what it means. It is not a pork loin stuffed with Xanax. Although, that could technically qualify. It is the food that a person often consumes when they want to feel better about themselves or a situation. It may be because of a feeling of nostalgia for a simpler or happier time. It may be the food that just helps them forget the moment the person is in. It may be a simple matter of habit to gravitate to a particular type of food when someone is depressed. Or maybe, it is just the right food that triggers the pleasure centers of your brain causing you to reach for it any time you need a little pick me up. That could be due to an addiction to that food or it sparks the memory of the time that bleached blonde, tanned beauty who was spilling out of her rainbow-print tube top that was two sizes too small winked at me when I was stuffing that taco in my mouth. Who knows what a person's motivation may be.

My recent bad habit is in this realm, but has a little more to it. It's not as much about the food as it is about the escape. You see, Red and I moved to Beijing in September and the fascination with being in an exciting exotic location has worn off. China is just where we live now. We have grown accustomed to it. There is still a lot we do not understand about this foreign culture, but navigating these differences has become commonplace for us, but that does not mean it isn't sometimes stressful.

Some days, we just need to decompress and get away from everything that is different. We just want something familiar so our brains can stop working so hard. I often download movies and American TV shows which allows us an escape for a while, but you can only sit and watch television for so long. I feel the need to get out, but going out means that I will be surrounded by China and on the days I want to escape that just won't do.

I have recently found a solution.

This is where the food part comes in.

On days when I am feeling like I really need a pick-me-up, I start scouring the internet for American restaurants. In a past post, I wrote about going to McDonald's for this. That is nice for 20 minutes, but when I'm looking to get away for an entire evening, I need something more substantial and last week I stumbled upon this.

Not the bank. The HOOTERS!

We hopped a bus that night to go to a restaurant that we could spend a considerable longer time in and have food we were familiar with in a setting that is not foreign. We knew that once we got past the ordering part, we could take our time without the sensory overload of CHINA CHINA CHINA everywhere we look.

Red and I both appreciate the food of China, but it was nice to sit down to this and know exactly what we were getting.

This Hooters was just like the ones in the States except for their fried pickles (they just didn't taste quite right) and the main feature that Hooters' waitresses are best known for. Chinese women are typically of a smaller stature in the 'hooters' region.

On a side note, we learned (from the one waitress who spoke English) that Chinese men typically find small breasts to be more attractive anyway. We didn't ask for this information. She just volunteered it for some reason. While American standards lean toward women having curves, Chinese beauty standards favor the tiny framed, slender woman. She then gestured to another waitress, "Like her." The woman she pointed out was what some Americans would label as being of the "bean pole" variety.

Because of the difference in what the locals would consider beauty, this changes the Hooters uniform a bit. The girls still wear the short shorts, but the tight t-shirts are out. For one, China is significantly more conservative than the States. That type of uniform is just unacceptable. Second, without the assets to fill them out, the point is kind of lost anyway.

Our waitress (pictured above) had long sleeves and kept her zipper up to the neck. This practice was fine with us. We hadn't really gone to Hooters to look at boobies anyway. We were there to be someplace familiar where we could let our guard down and just enjoy a nice meal. Hooters provided that for us. It was a great night and we felt much better as we left.

However, two days later, I needed a China break again. That's when I found this...

Ignore the salad. That belongs to my crazy wife.

 A Memphis-style barbecue restaurant! 

I think we're going to be all right.

My New Found Love for McDonald's

I have always seen myself as a happy-go-lucky type of guy. I am not someone who really gets depressed. Very few things actually upset me and I can recover very quickly from anything that somehow manages to get me down for a moment. Despite all of this, it does not mean I am stress-proof.

I do get stressed, but quite often I am not even aware that it is happening. My apathetic "hey, things could be worse" attitude is real, but that doesn't mean none of the crap happening in my life doesn't rattle around in my head sometimes. Stuff does get caught in there occasionally because, if I'm being honest with myself, there are some things that do require a little more thought than a simple shoulder shrug and cute smirk. Although, I've been told I have an adorable smirk.

Because the concept of stress is so foreign to me (this is not a joke - it's just not how my brain works), I don't always recognize the signs that I may actually be stressed. Whatever situation comes along, I just keep plugging along and do what I do. It is often later when I am exhausted or experiencing muscle tension that the events of the day occur to me.

Wow! That was really messed up! I hope tomorrow is easier.

Another way for me to discover that I was stressed is for something to happen to suddenly remove the stress. It's like when you are doing something outside in the winter and don't realize how cold you are until you step into the warmth of the house. At that point you feel your toes beginning to thaw and the color coming back into your face. Stress works the same way sometimes and I discovered that this happens to me here when I sit down at McDonald's. It just leaves because it is so familiar.

Fruit doesn't even look right.
What is this thing?

Since moving to China, there has been plenty to stress about. I can't read the signs. I don't recognize any of the food. I can't talk to anyone to even ask for directions. I don't know how to pay my bills. Nothing happens the way I expect it to. All the rules are different and I don't have a rule book. Plus, moving is generally considered to be pretty stressful anyway. My wife and I just added the culture and language barrier to the process.

This is why the McDonald's here is so great. It's familiar.

I'm lovin' it

Yeah, I do have to order off the picture menu because I'm basically illiterate. I can't order anything custom like extra pickles or no ketchup because…well, the language again. And they don't have everything on their menu that we have in the States (although they do have a lot of extra weird stuff), but the few items they have that coincide with the U.S. menu are identical in not only appearance but taste.

Now, please understand that I am not someone who always gravitates to the familiar. I love the food here. I've had my share of sheep intestine soup, millet pie, ji'angbing, and more rice than you could imagine. I visit the back-alley street vendors every day to eat some fantastic exotic foods, but every now and then, I need to step away from all the different and come back to the familiar just to refocus my brain. McDonald's provides that for me. It has become my once a week treat. Every Sunday morning, on my way to work, I stop in for a Sausage Egg McMuffin and a hash brown. It helps me reset myself for the coming week and gives me a break from tackling this new culture for a few minutes. For half an hour, I'm not in the new world of China. I'm just at McDonald's reading about the anti-Trump riots on my phone.

In a few months, this place can be my normal.